Stray Souls

by JesterFromHell

An innocent act of compassion throws the business of Dante, Vergil and Nero into disarray. Really? Nobody is surprised anymore, at least until old friends show up. From there all it takes is a single step to plunge everything into chaos. In the midst of it stands Nero, fighting for who he wants to be. (AU, doesn't follow timeline either, Darksiders/DMC lore mixed together, Nero/OC)

12. mirror, mirror on the wall - pt II

Mirror, mirror on the Wall Pt II

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

Danzig was met with an undead, toothy sneer. "And where did you hear that?" His English accent was thick and Danzig found himself intrigued and fascinated by it. Just another secret amongst secrets concerning the Master of Blades, Death held in so high regards.

"From Death himself." Danzig replied with an equal level voice, both staring each other in the eye, or where those were supposed to be, to find that hint of respect, they began to harbor for each other as soon as they met.

Unexpectedly, Draven bowed, but kept his flaming eyes on the old man, who looked like one indeed, but that vibe he got spoke of something entirely different He was intriguied by his uninvited guest to say the least. "I am Draven. King of the Dead. Master of this realm. And host of the battle arena." He straightened back up and widened his arms, motioning at the deck of this insane monstrosity of a flying wooden ship's deck they stood on, which was currently docked on the entrance to the battle grounds under the bleak sky with the unwavering storm clouds.

Behind Draven more ghostly shapes appeared, drawing a wide circle on his silent request, with Draven and Danzig at it's center. "But you, I never saw or heard of as it would seem. Spell your name. And what it is, you seek in this lonely lands." Just like a king would, he left no room for Danzig to decline his demands, delivered in a sharp voice.

Danzig took a brief look around and saw, that these ghosts were all souls, bound by oath and will. But not overthrown or enslaved, each sporting a different bony mask and tattered clothes, but still standing proud like the warriors they once were when still alive. They were here of their own volition. Death had mentioned, that Draven commanded an elite squad of unique and skilled warriors. He had called it an army though, and Danzig wondered how many of them truly were there and still in hiding. If he played his few cards right, this would be a tremendous aid, should it come the worst.

"I'm only a traveler. And a humble trader. My name is Danzig." He, too, bowed his head, flaunting just the right etiquette to greet a King of whatever it was he called his kingdom.

"That's a stretch, as far as I can see. There's no bargain here for you, I'm afraid. But, I will leave you to your secrets, if you tell me what you want."

Danzig sighed at him, but expressed a genuine, humble smile. Oh, there was a bargain, if it wasn't one of the sort Daven had in mind. "Where should I start? It is a long story I have to tell. And I'm not sure, if you have the time."

"Humor me, Old One." Draven said and turned, not bothering to look, yet halted after a few steps, waiting for Danzig to catch up to him and his unvoiced invitation. And with his tired and wrinkled eyes, Danzig blinked, clearly not expecting any kind of hospitality. After the first initial shock at the mention of the term 'old one', he followed Draven and his long and heavy armored footsteps up the grand staircase at the stern into the large construction next to the arena, which revealed itself to be the throne room.

"Tell me your story Danzig. I am dying to hear it." He chuckled at his own joke. "I beg your pardon. It seems there are some human traits, I appear to never have been able to shake off. And before you question me for not offering you any form of nutrition you might need, all we have is ashes and dirt."

But Danzig, politely answering to his request to trail behind, humored him with a sly chuckle of his own. Draven was no savage, that much was clear, minding his manners, wherever they may have sprouted from, Danzig wouldn't question his sheer luck. For the other thing, though. "I don't need that. I wouldn't have declined a fine spirit, but I see you ran rather short of that."

Draven motioned him to take a seat, which stood just at the start of the stairs leading up to the proud stony throne, where he himself settled, one leg crossed over the other and one elbow on the armrest, supporting his musing face under his chin. "A man of taste I see. I think, we might get along well. But sadly, no, nothing of that sort. But I do hope, to one day have that pleasure for myself again. It's something I quite miss."

Danzig felt the stone of his seat cold under his behind, shifting a few times, until he found a good enough position to finally begin his story time. "Well, if you ever should leave this realm, I could provide you with the finest among finest in the human realm. I'm sure you are one to appreciate it to the fullest."

The playful banter was such a welcomed distraction from his usual time, Draven found himself enjoying the company of the strange old man more than he could have guessed. "That just sounds acceptable. I will think about that. But now, I do believe you mentioned a shortage of time. Let's make the best of it."

Of course, Draven was aware what was going on beyond his borders. The death of the Charred Council had presented very welcomed means to end his torment. And to take the crown and have his revenge on the Lord of Bones. With swearing an oath to the powerful entity and receiving more powers in return, it stood and fell with their demise.

Though still a force to be reckoned with, Draven had challenged the former King and took his sweet time to strip his soul bare and send it back into the Well of Souls, where he once came from himself. The killing of the chancellor was the cherry on top. Not that Draven remotely remembered how that tasted, but the proverb fit too perfectly to not have used it.

And he had absorbed the then bodyless powers from his predecessor willingly and seated himself on the throne, freeing the tormented souls, that had wished for so long to move on, just like he himself once had done under the whip of his master. But more than a few asked to stay and became part of his army and made it grow exceptionally in strength, truly befitting of a King.

And then word got around of the vanished Horsemen, before Draven could announce his victory, he long ago had proclaimed to Death himself to seek. And this was more than disturbing. The watchers were gone, popping like puffs of reeking smoke into thin air. An era had ended and Draven was sure, the riders were the ones to have given it it's deadly last stab.

But here was one to fill in the gap for him and willingly so. An intriguing one, that smelled nothing like the dead. He managed to land on his good side with his mere choice of words and behavior. And because his scent didn't elude Draven in the slightest. This one was as old as time. And if someone like that took matters into his own hands, Draven would see the end of it. His pride commanded him too, as well as his honor. No foulness or corruption had ever tainted Danzig, that was for certain.

So Draven listened to the story and Danzig was highly pleased to have such a polite listener, soaking up all the information with little inquiry needed, for a sharp wit, as sharp as his tongue could be at times, was sitting behind that glowing skull.

Danzig knew, he had to tell his story time and time again from here on and struggled to keep it short and simple, not giving away everything, but saying enough to persuade Draven that they needed help, in form of a watchfulness, that he could provide. He doubted Hell or Heaven had much interest in the City of the Dead, but still, the way to the Tree was unblocked and Draven voiced his assistance to see it protected for how long it was needed.

How much Draven could guess, was only known to himself, but both were satisfied with the outcome. Neither interested in having the balance shift to one side only. And have them at mercy by whoever came out on top. And additionally, they both were aware, mankind wasn't ready to wage war against either of the realms, let alone both.

"You think the Horsemen are looking into a means to form a new Council?" Draven read enough between the lines and came to his own conclusions quickly as to why the riders had disappeared, and Danzig believed them to already be in the human world. He just hoped dearly, that Death's vault of abominations was safe to be left alone.

"It's only a guess." Danzig folded his hands over his knees and leaned forward, looking up at the King warily, though fairly amused. Here was the one chance he probably got. "Why do you ask?"

"It's what I would do. It can't stay like this, no? The riders are no barbarians, like the rest of their annihilated race. Death knows better. And he has this thing for the balance. It was quite obvious. I admired him, for he went a great length to save his brother. As simple as it may sound, but it clearly is the right thing to do for someone so driven to have his justice."

Draven had many points and Danzig was quite shocked to the insight Draven shared about Death's motivations. But he could only agree upon this. "So, when it does come to this, you want to bargain yourself into the new Council?"

"Oh dear, no. Not at all. It's their task to clean up behind themselves. But..." Draven took his sweet time and shuffled around to a new position, straightening his back against, sharp eyes trying to pierce Danzig's hard shell. "But, they might want to acquire someone to guard it. Someone worthy of this position."

Danzig's smile turned quite sly. "What I just told you was no jest, either. The third kingdom is in danger without protection, as well. If you stand with us now, you may be able to negotiate from a better point. You know, it won't be forgotten by the riders, who eventually came to their aid in times of need. And I know, that Death already thinks you are worth more than others. It would only set your qualities in stone and give you valuable esteem."

"To bargain myself in? Is that what you suggest? Well, Danzig. Here is my offer as King. If I promise you my men now, you will see to it, that I will have the riders word to be their first choice of guarding the Council." Draven's proud voice echoed through the vast hall, demanding more than Danzig was able to give.

Danzig held his hand up, offering his empty palm. "If they need it after all. I wouldn't dare speak for the riders. I merely present to you an opportunity."

"I see." Draven's voice was low with disappointment. "Pity." Then he stood up in all his undead glory, striding down the stone steps to stare Danzig down in his seated position. "Well, as it stands you only are here to ask for help, yet have nothing to truly offer." His proud voice was meant to intimidate his guest, yet it didn't work. "I never said anything else." Danzig merely shrugged.

"You're being honest, Old One. I appreciate it."

Danzig rose as well, meeting him head on with a deep, grattifying look to the flaming holes in his skull, in which once sat honest eyes, full of hatred and vengeance, though long gone. What yet remained, Danzig still spotted easily.

Draven strode past him. "The third kingdom is not foreign to me. But you already might know that. It once held the greatest treasure I had cherished the most, but it's long lost to me. But I couldn't forget, how I enjoyed every breath living." And Danzig felt the sorrow deeply in his own heart, jumping between them like an electric current. He bowed his head to acknowledge the words uttered in demure.

And unbeknownst to Danzig, Draven had already made up his mind long before, guessing someone would have eventually come to seek him out. But he would have bet his undead butt, it would have been Death himself. But this creature right here, the proud soul of ancient times held his interest far more better than any of the riders could have. Whatever Danzig was, it felt soothing to stand in his presence, his ache and longing tripled, but mended at the same time. It was intoxicating and only achieved to strengthen the King's resolve, that it would be beneath him to not aid the cause. Danzig was a noble man, there was no doubt about it. "I grant you your request. When the time is nigh, we will stand with you."

The old man's eyes zeroed in at Draven, expression a mix of surprise and relief. It had been easier than he had thought, the King of the Dead was truly a man of honor and with a sense for the right cause to pursue. "I am very grateful, King." He added a bow and his hand to his chest at the lst word. It beat like a single drum, settling in the proud posture of Draven, who gave a wave of his hand and a nod.

Having done what he came for Danzig bid his farewell rather abruptly, but not before giving veiled advice as to what the King's army had to expect. But Draven assured him there was no need to be worried in any way. He counted his warriors amongst the finest, that earth had wept for long as it had to see them pass. And Danzig could feel they were indeed in the hands of a capable leader and master. No, heshouldn't worry anymore and it was one burden less to bear.

After leaving the eternal thrown with feeling much lighter, Danzig decided to pursue another clue from the Crowfather. Though it was out of a more curious streak than actual practicality, Danzig had to admit. But who could say, how valuable an asset like the enigmatic Ostegoth, the relic trader, could prove to be. And seeking out that wretched Vulgrim, who the riders harbored both a distaste for, but still had to admit a value to him, would be nothing short of entertaining to the say the least. He was another trader, who knew ways to travel, they all could wish for. It would make things a lot less inconvenient. Maybe he knew a way into the White City, which could be immensely helpful. Danzig ached to see it and have a guess on what was going on behind the strongest walls ever built, though it might only be danger that was lurking beyond.

---

Nero stole glances at Devon ever so often, while they helped themselves to the dinner, Vergil had so aptly prepared earlier with a sour mood and more stinging words to unveil his dislike of having to see after the two only idiots who were indeed in dire need of nutrition in comparison to all the other current occupants of the house. But that was just Vergil's game, complaining harshly, yet still doing what needed to be done nonetheless.

Nero had only laughed, easily seeing through Vergil's act, and had received a halfhearted threat to spar right there and then, which had him sobered up immediately. As much as Nero most of the time wished for some action to go down, he didn't feel like it at that moment, all with an empty stomach and head full of worries. And luckily for him, Vergil had also other things on his mind, like Dante, that deviated his attention.

So, Nero had seated Devon and himself in the, now void of twinsanity, kitchen and they both munched happily away on the pasta. Not a stroke of genius to Nero, but for Devon it was tomato induced heaven. He could see her happy twinkling eyes and almost wished, he would have served the dinner, which they had been interrupted in preparing not long ago, rather than Vergil's good but awful simple dish, he would have spiced up with pleasure, if they hadn't been short before starving to death.

Oh well, since she was staying with them anyway, Nero could always have a second go to impress and blow her taste buds away. He knew he was good. The twins might be better at it, if they would ever develop the ambition to immerse themselves into the art, that cooking really was. But as it seemed of now, Nero was the only one to truly appreciate it. And he was completely fine with that anyway.

Devon had been awfully quiet throughout and after finishing dinner and it didn't appear to get any better. Nero put up with that at first, thinking she might still be tired or something, but Devon actually was nothing of that sort.

Her mind raced still at lightning speed with hundreds of thoughts, each to inapt to be voiced out loudly or so she thought. They were split between disbelief, realization, guilt and many other things. So many, woven together, she couldn't really pick one thread to haul out and discuss with her opposite, who was becoming a bit frustrated in trying to strike up a conversation.

She almost missed the first the day and the carelessness, for about now, it felt to her that she had been dropped and left alone in a foreign world. She lived in this city all her life and never had she truly walked it with open eyes up until now, she had discovered. So many questions and still no means where to truly begin. Dante was the kind of guy she would approach, if he had been in sight, making Nero the second and somehow much uncomfortable choice, for he appeared to have a burden upon his shoulders, she didn't know anything about and certainly didn't want to poke at.

Curiosity burned inside her stuffed belly, that knew no boundaries, but her brain told her to shut up. After they had eaten, both had toddled back to the couch, Nero once more flipping channels with a beyond bored expression. And as if on cue, Devon opened her mouth, finally, but Nero jumped to his feet, groaning excessively and the remote flew across the room. The action startled Devon and interjected with her mouth ready and open to speak. It snapped shut on the spot.

"Let's get out of here." Nero blurted out at her bedazzled face.

Devon's eyebrow shot up. "What?"

"Come on. I'm tired of sitting around, while they are having something important to do, without us no doubt." Sarcasm laced his remark. He stretched his sore back, making his whole body tense and the many muscles flex. Devon averted her eyes. He had no clue, how much it was bothering her. In all the right ways, she had to admit, but that was not the point. And she inwardly chastised herself for this and cursed him for being that kind of oblivious.

Devon eyed him warily, when he let his arms fall back in place. She very well could hear Dante's warning echo in her mind. And it would be a lie, if she told herself to not believe those and be frightened by the consequences, which where surely to come. Under all the misleading playfulness, she wouldn't doubt Dante was not one to be fucked with when it turned serious.

But here was Nero, with a mischievous smile directed at her skittish self, asking her to do exactly that. And she stood up, heart already racing. "Didn't you hear? I am not allowed to leave alone." It had sounded much more convincing in her head though, than out loud.

Damn.

Nero's grin turned obnoxious. "Well, I'm with you. Unless I don't count as somebody." He put both hands on his hips, a stance that suggested how undoubtedly unimpressed he was with her weakly delivered objection. "Just gonna stretch our legs a bit. And get some fresh air. What's there to worry about?"

He tried to persuade Devon, as if it was remotely necessary. Though the woman couldn't turn her eyes away from him, her brain suddenly did, because of the way the image of him was flattened by her disrupted eyesight. A sharp pang of sadness pierced her belly. How could she go outside with the way she looked? Somehow, all her courage and happy-go-lucky attitude had vanished along with her left eye, though she still tried excessively to keep up the impression.

"It's just not a good idea." Devon huffed, the gloomy thoughts taking over fully, watching his smile falter and vanish as well. "It just isn't."

Devon wasn't sure, if Nero misinterpreted her behavior, or what he was able to guess or what he didn't, but he turned soft and fairly serious. "It's alright. There's no need to be afraid."

If he meant of Dante or something else, Devon wasn't going to ask. The subject was edging towards an answer she felt like not giving yet. She looked more like a mess than ever before. All the dirt and grime? It always could be washed off. But this face? It was going to stay like this forever.

She could already imagine all the stares she would get. And because of him, people's heads were sure to turn. And then attention would be on her as well. It suddenly didn't sit well with her. And the occurring thought, she surprisingly cared about it, was another thing she had to chew on.

Nero observed at her closely, seeing the turmoil in her eyes, which she had carefully tried to mask up to this point. This was about something else, he deduced with a sullen feeling. Then the reason of her pensiveness hit him like a brick to the back of his head. "We can take the car, if you're not up for walking." Not letting it go, he tried a different approach and in a nonchalant voice to not rouse suspicion, that he had guessed more than she had realized.

Devon really couldn't say why he being so persistently, but the effort warmed her heart, feeling very much grateful that he did. She remembered, how uncontrollable giddy she had felt, when they had visited the supermarket. In the back of her mind, it had nagged at her relentlessly to have another chance like this again. He presented it to her with arms wide open. All she had to do was nod. Just this one single, tiny motion.

She knew, she liked Nero. From the moment, he had walked into the restaurant on Dante's request to pick her up, she had known. If there was anything to go by in such a short time, it was her heart, which told her with loud thuds, he was a genuine, caring soul. A fire burning low and steady when calm, but ready to burst into searing flames when needed. A temper and twitchy energy, she found nothing short of infecting.

Ridiculous as it may sounded, she trusted him. As she did with all of them. And there it was. The resolve she needed - to simply grab on to something or turn away and let it go forever. What's a bit pain to endure and a little insecurity, if she could make it to have such tremendous back up?

Funny, the choice was so easy to decipher after all. And by looking at him, it became clear as day. Much like the reverent ringing of that sweet sounding bell in the back of her mind. She could hear it bright and clear, how Pesh made his apparent consensus known.

A slow smile threatened to break through, watching Nero pouting with furrowed brows. He was the opportunity to have something other than a backpack full of trash and tattered clothes, desperately clinging to it while staggering through the eternal rain in dark streets. She'd be an idiot to not take her chances.

Nero read the smile as a yes, before she could say anything, stepping closer and nudging her arm with his fist. "Come one. Get dressed. Before the twins manage to catch a whiff of this."

Oh, so this was indeed a secret escape. The way he almost whispered the words with a smug grin, urging her with a point of his finger up the stairs to underline his statement, let excitement course through her. "Okay, okay." Devon replied, face split into with a mad grin. He made it feel like they were becoming partners in crime. And didn't that feel good?

"But keep quiet. Bag's still in my room. Just don't...," Nero remembered the state of the room with a pang of embarrassment, "...don't look around too much. It's a mess." He scratched his nose, sheepishly and donned a faint, cute blush.

Devon only shrugged, eventually finding and activating that tiny spot, she had kept safe for years within herself, once more. It was the one where she appeared to be indifferent t anything out of the ordinary like the way Dante had found her in the streets. Devon located it for Nero only and his awkward expression, which she wasn't going to judge anyway. "It's okay, Nero. We'll clean that up later, if you want."

Nero very much liked the sound of that, cocking his head in mild astonishment. The way his name rolled off her tongue was something he didn't know, he would like that much, either. But he declined the offer nonetheless. It was his duty, and when they would get back home, he already knew, Dante would make him do it on all for fours at least, if not coming up with something worse.

Devon went upstairs and grabbed the bag to snatch a few warmer clothes out, before she slipped into the bathroom. He had been right. The room had been a mess and it was staggering to actually think about him doing this much damage all by himself. Whatever had brought this kind of rage out, she didn't want to know.

Devon had tried to piece things together at first, but realized she had not enough input. As of now. Only the way he had retreated, after he had let her inspect his arm and claw. And that was her only clue so far.

Maybe he would talk about that, but she wouldn't let herself get her hopes up that high. Though he really was giving her enough of an impression to believe they were becoming friends. Or partners in crime. Anything for her. It was fine.

Devon dressed up as fast as possible, eyeing the bathroom door carefully, anticipating at least Dante to burst in and ask her what the hell she was doing. But nothing happened, much to her relief. She found herself smiling once more, feeling so daring to sneak out with Nero to do God knows what. She didn't care, anything to keep her mind from going haywire from anew by the minute.

She gave the sweater in her hand a warm grin, before pulling it over head, inspecting the red outline of the hand with the offending gesture with a turned back and looking over her shoulder into the vanity mirror. But when her eye traveled from the back print to her face, she stopped grinning entirely.

How Dante, Vergil and especially Nero were able to look at her with a straight face, she couldn't understand. The mild look of disgust she wore, was the least she expected them to have on their pretty faces as well, yet it never came. Her messed up face with the gruesome, dark hole stared back, gaping at her like laughing with an open mouth.

No matter what she told herself, her hopes and the small fantasy that had steadily built up in the back of her mind became black, like her eye socket. Though Nero gave her bright smiles and kind words, she saw the pity he couldn't hide, that flitted across his stunning features from time to time. He might was doing this out of courtesy and because there was no one other around.

And Devon knew, there would never be anything more than this to it. This was the top most she would get. And it gave her heart a slight sting, she was surprised to receive at her own gloomy thoughts.

As if...

She scoffed, looking into the mirror with a silent snarl and had almost laughed out loud. As if Nero was anywhere near the bottom where she teetered along all the time. He was high up and unreachable, even if he showed her an attitude, that could be misleading, if only she interpreted it widely and squinted hard enough to be able to deceive herself. But Devon was no fool. She'd take it nonetheless, yes, whatever he was offering and without question, but there was nothing more.

Devon tried to fix her hair into place with whatever product she could reach on top of the shelves, only these tall men could reach safely. Tiptoeing along, her fingers managed to nudge something off, and of course Devon wasn't able to catch it. It clattered to the floor and she held her breath, hoping it wouldn't rouse anyone to her actions inside the bathroom and get curious about the noises.

For what seemed like ages, she waited, trying to steady her breath and heart to not alert anyone. Nothing but silence ensued and Devon finally snatched the can off the tiled floor, swallowing the not so ladylike curse like sour grapes. Slow second thoughts crept up on her, while she pushed her hair into a favorable position.

After feeling so giddy at the prospect of escaping the house for a while with Nero, she couldn't help but to feel remorseful about it either. Dante had never given her reason to act like this. Furthermore, Devon believed he ever would. She accepted his restrictions under a heat-of-the-moment reaction and knew, it was more because of Nero than her. Or maybe a mix of both, ready to surface under the younger male's course of action in wrecking the bedroom.

Devon rested her hand over her face, contemplating yet again thoughts turning funny and spinning in circles. How fucked up it all was. And, ironically, coming face to face with the unblemished truth of it all. The room could be fixed. She couldn't. It would never go back to normal.

No matter the happy face she tried to put on earlier for Nero and the twins, for she knew she was grateful and they deserved it all, yet in this very moment Devon felt the sadness at arriving at the heart of this harsh truth. Biting her tongue, in order to let pain clear her mind, something she discovered to help profusely, she turned away from the image in the mirror.

She had to stop. Now. Even if she had to trade away one eye for it. Wasn't this, what she wanted? And the answer hurt.

When somehow finding someone who suddenly cared, it reignited the fears, she thought she had lost along the dirty streets. It wasn't fair to have them come crashing through the carefully assembled walls and out of nowhere, flinging her into the nervous state she found herself in at the simple and innocent request Nero had made, to tag along with him.

And with this Devon's thoughts went full circle back to him. Was it worth to not know and have anything at all, than having to stare at something she'd never had all day?

"Pesh...it's just you they like to know more about, isn't it?" Devon all but whispered, guessing she didn't even have to voice it out at all, for she knew, he was able to hear her thinking anyway. But it made him a confident to her secrets. And wasn't that at least a comforting thought? He would be there no matter what, that was for sure. And a selfish thing to boot, yet she wouldn't let anything come over him, what little she had to offer she would give for this warm presence inside her.

Downstairs, Nero had stood up from his prior lounging spot and began fidgeting with his glove in his hands. What was she taking so long for? A change of clothes didn't take half an hour lat time he checked. Nero paced back to the couch and let out another impatient groan.

When he couldn't take it any longer, he silently walked up the staircase towards the bathroom. He softly knocked, refraining from whisper-yelling her name at the last second. His hand hovered still in midair, ready to knock a second time, when the door opened. Devon faced the knuckles of his hand with a furrowed brow.

Nero didn't wait for a word to spill, shushing her with his finger on his lips, before he simply grabbed her wrist and dragged her along swiftly.

Devon's eyes were glued to where she was hauled after him, his warm hand encased her wrist in a vice like grip. And she had to grin, for he proved yet again to her, that he simply had no ounce of patience in him. They quickly made it downstairs and out of the front door in lightning speed and only then Nero allowed himself to speak, on their way to the car.

"What are you grinning about?"

Devon's head snapped up. "Oh nothing." She didn't even realize, she had been doing it and maybe even looked like a madwoman all the while. "Really. Nothing."

"O...kay..." He didn't sound remotely convinced with her answer and Devon wouldn't admit, she found it funny even more.

They climbed into the car, having Devon take a glance at the clock inside, making it evident that she might have taken too much time in the bathroom indeed to have him react the way he did.

When she pressed herself into the seat, as Nero backed out of the parking spot and lead the humming beast onto the road, Devon sported another, wider smile.

"Now you're making me nervous." Nero turned to her for as long as the straight road allowed him to, to give her one of his own mischievous grins.

Devon's grin was unwavering, yet turning even wider, if possible. And there was nothing she could do about it either. The way his face lightened up was just contagious. "Dante will be so pissed."

Nero chuckled. "And that's something to smile about?" But he might be going easy on her for this, Nero ventured, with being a girl and all, not to mention what she had already gone through because of them. He would suffer the consequences, but in this moment he could care less. "But hey, knowing Dante, he might let it slide with you."

"Whatever that's supposed to mean." Devon replied with an amused look.

And Nero found himself asking, what exactly he was aiming for with saying it the way he did. Well, he knew Dante long enough to know this trait about him, yet finding out that he didn't had a thing going on with neither Lady nor Trish, to which Nero had been dumbfounded, seeing and hearing how Dante was indeed popular with the ladies, but not with commitment. Or maybe he had been waiting all this time.

Nero knew, what he had been thinking, the first time he had seen Dante and Devon together at the restaurant, believing this had to be a fling the older man was chasing after. Only to find out, why he had actually phoned in and feeling guilty about it a mere second later. Dante wasn't strictly the guy to pick up girls from the wayside, and only ever resorted to Love Planet, since Nero moved in, only to learn from Johnny later, that he only ever did so.

But still, there was a nagging thought in the back of Nero's head, which didn't die down easily, slightly fueled on about the way Dante and Devon were actually quite casual and friendly with each other, up the moment where he swore he saw the woman blush, whenever Dante was around.

Nero would be the last one, to step in and cross boundaries. He could feel there was a genuine feeling that both harbored for each other. He was quite actually curious, if he was on the right track with what his guts told him. Despite all the various things, Dante's habits forced him believe, he could still see, that the man wasn't devoid of mature and deeper feelings. He just hadn't found the right one yet, so to say.

Nero viewed her for a second, before concentrating on the road ahead. She was nice to look at, even with that gruesome injury, which did not bother him, other than the pang of guilt. Something he had to live with from now on...and it wasn't a foreign feeling either. He lived with it for what already seemed like forever and a day. Sometime sit was dulled down in the actions of a busy day and sometimes, it got louder, just like now.

But Devon never blamed any of them for it. And the contrary, she was so casual about it, that Nero had come to conclude, it could be an act all the same. Yet, he still knew next to nothing about the women and what her story was. How she had ended up living on the streets under dirt and rain.

To ask her right upfront didn't seem to be best of choices, yet her unrattled behavior let him assume he might as well take a shot later, when the opportunity presented itself.

"Just a hunch." Nero shrugged, eyes fixed forward again. "So. Where do you wanna go?"

Devon's brows shot up at the question, caught off guard. "Why ask me? This was your idea. I thought you had a plan." If she was honest, she did not even have a single clue how to answer.

"Well, seeing like I practically dragged you out, you might as well get to choose." Nero chewed on the inside of his cheek, contemplating. "Considering as we just ate, dinner would be out of the question." Devon laughed at how he voiced it in a slightly hopeful question, indicating he'd still be up for seconds if it was presented to him.

"Don't tell me you're still hungry?" Devon asked in mild astonishment.

Nero cocked his head, licking his lips. "I wouldn't call it hungry. But, how about dessert?" The girl stared at him wide eyed, not knowing if she'd be able to ingest even more food. "I'm still stuffed, Nero." She gave him a fake pained expression, but chuckled at him, at how dramatically he let his face fall at that. Downright adorable, so Devon put a finger to her pursed lips, mulling her statement. She gave him a sheepish look. "Yet again, it doesn't so bad actually. And if it makes you happy-"

"-it does." Nero interrupted in a suggestive voice, satisfied, he was getting exactly what he wanted.

"Then by all means, I'm in. Dessert it is." She jabbed her thump at her chest and somehow the gesture reminded Nero of Dante, which made him laugh. "Let's make you the happiest dude out there. Because I'm sure you won't be by the time we get back ho-" Devon halted, breath caught in her throat, surprised at her own words. And the way how easily it had just wanted to roll off her tongue.

Nero turned serious at that, and a brief side glance revealed a confused looking Devon. The mood was about to flip, he could feel it. "That's right. It won't be pretty. But so worth it!"

Devon recovered, when he didn't even miss a beat in his remark. Her mouth opened, but nothing came. Nero grew nervous under her stare, grip tightening around the wheel. "What?" He asked slowly, not minding the road for a few seconds, while Devon just realized that this could eventually turn into a regular thing. Like driving around with him, spending time, getting to know each other. In only a few days, her life had turned completely upside down so to speak. In a good way, but also in a bad one.

When she still didn't answer, Nero waved his left hand in front of her eyes. "Earth to Devon." And he just had to go and say her name. And it sounded so good. And so painful. She couldn't say why, but it was a bittersweet hurt. "I'm here. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know, there must be a lot of things on your mind. To be honest, I just thought, you might be good, with going outside and have a time out actually." Nero let his true colors shine once again.

But why did he even care, Devon couldn't tell.

"I'm fine. Really. But, you're right, there's a lot of things I still have to figure out. It's just so hard to believe, right?" She laughed nervously at her own words.

"Says the one, who admitted to have died just like that. But I guess, it didn't really sink in just yet." Nero might have hit the nail on the head and or missed it by a mile, but he had actually a lot of insight, the only difference between them was the nature of each soul they had both been housing in their bodies, or still were in Devon's case. He didn't even know, apart from his devil bringer, if anything was still present that smelled like devil inside him to begin with. Yet he had died and the foreign devil in him had brought him back.

"You sound like you know exactly what you're talking about..." Devon gave him a puzzled look.

Nero shrugged, with an indifferent expression. "In fact I do." He admitted it nonchalantly, throwing the proverbial ball right back, hoping she'd pass it once more and keep talking.

Devon didn't doubt him as he told her with a calm certitude, she hadn't yet encountered in full capacity. It gave her a from of reconciliation "How so?"

Fortunately for him, a red light gave him time to look at her. Blue eyes, determined and quite sad, in a way that made Devon's heart clench, didn't falter and regarded her incessantly. "Being a hybrid has it advantages, but I had to share my body with Vergil for a while, actually. He sat somewhere in my head and it wasn't the best of times, so to say."

Wow. That one she did not see coming. And how on earth could she have. This was all so bizarre.

Devon could only stare at him at loss for words. The hybrid thing she knew from Dante, having had that thorough talk with him on the side of her bed. But except for explaining how hybrids come to exist, as offspring between humans and devils, she still knew next to nothing. Dante had been vague about their and especially Nero's origin. Now that was the connection she hadn't been able to figure out, when she believed them to be relatives at first.

Nero didn't avoid her wide eyes and just continued with a shaky voice, which he realized a moment too late, but kept going nonetheless, finding a steady rhythm as he went on. "I found his sword, Dante had been after for a long time and I kind of consumed it. We merged involuntarily. But that's not the point. The point is, it could be undone."

And the cogs in Devon's brain clicked and Nero could see it working immediately. He didn't forget, what Death had said, when they asked him about the origin of Pesh inside her. And he knew, it must have been eating away at her ever since, even if she tried hard to not seem affected by anything. He had to admit, he found it incredibly admiring, yet it vexed him to no end that she had clammed up about this revelation altogether.

And the fact, Dante and Vergil where playing house with the riders did piss him off, he suddenly understood one thing. The restlessness didn't only come from the fact that danger was imminent, but that she might be in a danger much closer and sure played a huge part and why he had wanted to leave so abruptly. She was the one, they needed to help, he could care less about the business the riders had with Danzig. Thought the old man was a key item in every way.

He tried to swallow his resurfacing anger for Devon's sake though.

"Danzig will know what to do, when they find him." And Dante or Vergil might also have a plan already. Or so he really hoped at this point, though it didn't seem like it.

And with his assured voice and a single sentence, Nero was able to lift a huge weight off her shoulders. Devon smiled at how lighter it felt, nodding at him for good measure. He was a perceptive one, that she accepted and gave him the credit for through and through.

"I really tried to not think about that, to be honest. And I don't know how else to put it, but I just know Pesh doesn't want this. But there's nothing he can do about it, I guess. But that's different from you and the twins. It's not just some kind of power, but actually another being. Or did Vergil do anything to you?"

Nero had to laugh slightly in order to conceal how truly terrifying it had been. He thought back to it, with a twist to his guts at how gruesome it had been, and the relief and the sheer luck he had, that the ritual Danzig had put him through to separate them, succeeded the way it did. Which posed another threat to Devon, he didn't want to think about just yet.

"Oh, it was nasty. But imagine him twentyfour-seven. It kind of messes with you." He shoved the seriousness aside with a joke, not wanting to entirely spill the beans about the feeling of having a rampaging devil inside him, tearing his mind to tiny shreds. But Vergil had been through a lot of bad stuff all the same, and if Nero couldn't eventually relate, he would have lied. He had expereinced not only his tragedy, but Vergil's as well. And Nero highly doubted an angel to act the way Vergil had. There had to be a difference between two opposing mights, or so he at least hoped.

"I guess, I can understand. But this Danzig you speak of. Who is he? And is he really that powerful?" To Devon the concept still was mind boggling, even if finding herself in the middle of a bunch of supernatural creatures, she still had a hard time to comprehend.

Nero pondered for a moment. The green light and speeding the car off to their destination gave him time to give his answer, which he knew wasn't going to satisfy the newfound curiosity within her eyes. "He's really old, and not by human standards. He practically raised Dante and is kind of his mentor as far as I know. He's alright, bit of a nutjob though, if you ask me." And the way Nero said it with scrunching up his nose, Devon had to laugh out loud, interrupting Nero in the process. The boy scratched his temple, half embarrassed for maybe not choosing the right words and give a her an impression to worry about. Or outright laugh as she did. He chuckled along with her. "It's not as bad as it sounds. When it comes to things like demonic powers and such, he knows his stuff. He really does. So, don't worry. He'll know what to do."

A strange calmness settled within Devon, watching the old city and it's many facets of architecture pass. All it's dark and Gothic themed houses, which altered from center to outskirts into a lighter youth styled exterior, made her heave a relieved sigh. Still not knowing where exactly Nero was taking them, she only cared that it seemed like it wouldn't be anywhere near the unsettling remains of that goddamn tower.

---

Dante was unnerved by the fact, he wasn't able to sense Devon in the slightest since her recent rebirth or whatever they liked call it. And he really had the blinding urge to tell Vergil to back off and have an eye on her, despite knowing that Nero was surely keeping track of everything that happened in the house by now.

Poor boy sure was on the lookout for whenever Vergil would show up, ready to deliver punishment by whooping his lilly ass in a random match in a makeshift cage without escape, conjured up by those many swords he was able to summon.

Death's friendly glare didn't help either to turn his mood not into a sour one. So many things demanded his attention and here he was idly skipping through the various incantations in his mind to find the appropriate one to achieve the most satisfying outcome.

But it proved to be hard task with all those eyes solely on him.

"Vergil, do me favor, will ya." Dante spoke, unaffected by the glare going even so far as to point his finger at his brothers nose. He hated it as much as Death and Dante purely did it for shits and giggles. Vergil glared across it, arms crossed over his chest.

"What?"

Dante redirected his pointed finger to the bronze frame, rich with detailed flowers and other plants, Dante had no name for and neither did he care about that.

"Stick a few of your swords into the frame. Oh, and let me use Yamato for a second."

Vergil's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. "You are kidding..."

"Afraid I'm not."

Death was breathing down his neck once more, impatient bastard he was. Dante could feel the rough exhale and it made his skin itchy. He rolled his shoulders out of habit and to shake the feeling off, while giving Vergil a pleading look, to activate some of that pity, Vergil was hiding somewhere in side him.

Vergil silently complied, summoning the swords without blinking and embedded them around the shiny surface deep into the wood. After that, Yamato appeared in his hand and he held it out, nothing directed at his brother but a sour look. However Dante was very thankful he didn't need to force this on Vergil, more than he jsut had to. But if Vergil insisted on staying, he might as well could participate, making things less complicated actually. He used the sword to cut his hand under the watchful eyes of both riders and his brothers, grinning stupidly at all of them, as if this was nothing even remotely dangerous.

Dante could have just called for Yamato himself. Hell, it belonged to him as much as Vergil's stubborn head and all the rest attached to it. Yet, once again he showed him courtesy, not wanting to demote his position any more than really necessary. And Vergil was well aware and might have appreciated the gesture more, if the situation had been another.

No one could truly guess, how deeply Vergil despised the state he was in. It was infuriating and frustrating all the same. Dante had done as best as he could, Vergil knew, but this simply wasn't how it had been supposed to end. Vergil did not accept it in the slightest, always looking for way to fix this and be back to normal, whatever he deemed to be normal anyway.

He tried to act accordingly to assure both Dante and Nero did not catch on, but in reality Vergil was distraught and this was by no means how he was going to stay. Not by a long shot.

And here was Dante, practically shoving it into his face at how he had missed out on all of Dante had become. When his twin finally began his attempt in subduing the mirror's power and bend it to his will with a string of words, that only meant he was fabricating an unknown spell, Vergil's brain almost ceased to function. He felt blinded by the bubbling rage inside him, struggling to keep his exterior as calm as poosible. Danzig had taught Dante well it would seem.

The mirror came to life, while Vergil watched in a state one could only describe as shocked. And the blatant truth hit him square to his faked stoic expression.

He would never had needed Arkham for his disastrous course of action in the first place, if he hadn't acted so rashly about it. He would have simply been able to open the passage and summon Temen-ni-gru all by himself. And this made his blood boil and eyes swirling with unveiled envy. How things would have turned out differently, if he had just stuck to Dante and Danzig for a little while longer, all this knowledge passed on to his brother would have been his as well. Arkham would have never been able to turn into the nuisance, they had to get rid of in a last joint effort eventually. Yet he had managed to turn into an ugly bump in the road.

Vergil's plan would have never failed without having to rely on Arkham.

He clenched his teeth and balled his hands into tight fists, suddenly wanting nothing more but to get out of there, and not having to witness at how much Dante had grown and exceeded his old self in wisdom. Danzig had always been a very capable man, but this was getting out of hand, putting all his faith into his idiot brother, though of course Vergil knew Dante was far from being exactly that.

It was just that Vergil always saw his little brother raiding the strawberry fields behind the family manor and stuffing his face with dirty fingers until he was about to puke. No other memory of their childhood had stuck more with Vergil, than this ridiculous behavior and the loud, obnoxious laughter, that had followed after their mom had found out yet again, because Dante's face always had been a sticky mess, which he had refused to wipe clean. He had never given a single fuck about how he looked and acted as a child.

Dante was highly focused on the mirror, feeling the dormant power come to life and prickling his skin with wanting to extend beyond the surface. Dante pressed his bloodied hand to the surface, after smearing signs across it. His mind began to stir and wander to look over expanding over fields and fields of ash, through great gates of dark, sticky grime until a green lit sky filled his vision by looking through the mirror. He silently called out for Danzig wherever his eyes would roam, knowing the danger and accepting it all together.

Creatures became aware of the swirling, yet still tightly closed portal, moving swiftly across the highs and lows of the endless plains. Dante didn't even know where exactly he looked, but desperate times called for desperate actions, which he was willing to make. And he knew, with Vergil and the riders behind him, for whatever might still be able to break through his spell, it would receive a solid beating and not get away into the human realm anyway.

His grip on the mirror slightly faltered, making him bite his lower lip. This was unpleasant and he could feel Vergil's swords vibrate under the spell, he ahd used on them to enhance it. It feed off the demonic essence from Vergil and Yamato to hold it open in the process. His eyes slid over to where his brother stood with an expression, he hadn't seen in a long time.

Dante breathed heavily. "Verge." He admonished his brother to not loose command over the summoned swords, as the first telltale clang hit him hard to the ear. Blue bits and white swirls told him, Vergil was not paying attention any longer. Somehow seemingly caught up in thoughts, one by one of his cursed blades vanished. "Vergil!" Dante all but bellowed at him. "Focus, dammit!"

His response was a snarl, Dante was surprised about, for he could not guess a fraction of what had gotten into his brother. Dante's hold slipped further under the strain to uphold the physical blockade to the portal, slipping like his hand, leaving more traces and smears across the mirror. With the last blue blade's pop, Yamato disappeared as well, yet the portal remained, the surface of the mirror liquified and Dante's hand slipped through.

Vergil disappeared in a flash and War was so kind as to haul Dante back by a harsh yank at his collar, landing him on his butt.

"Get ready." Was all Death said in a darkened voice, knowing the attention of the beasts on the other side was on them and now the spell was interrupted and the portal open.

"Vergil!" Dante yelled yet again, but already knew it was futile. He was gone. "You moron." He added for good measure, and for a second his darker side wanted to shout at him to come back in here and there would be nothing Vergil was able to do about, but to heed his master's command.

The first demon came through and the stench hit Dante unprepared. With flaring nostrils he flipped from his seated position back to stand on his shaky feet. His anger doubled over, then started climbing to heighten tenfold.

"You two-" Death snarled, but was stopped dead when Dante triggered, ripping through skin and clothes of the riders bodies standing in too close range to his energy burst.

The anger manifested, tangible and with a bitter taste to both the riders mouths. It was the first time to experience this form and it made them painfully aware from where this power heeded. It wasn't the sulfuric taste of the thing, which plunged through the mirror, but the very own odor of Dante's devil form that they tasted. It actually hurt.

"Disgusting." War piped up, while ridding them of the creature with his huge claw, splattering them all to equal parts with the acidic blood. Who exactly War meant was not clear.

And then the things poured in and the bedroom proved to be small to hold them all in, wood splintering where they hit, shelves and dressers practically exploding all over the place. Dante seethed with rage, not even remembering that he was the one capable to close the portal in the first place. And the fact that he should be doing exactly that, rather than to mindlessly rip through undead bodies and hurl them away, while his low growls escaped him.

The bedroom became a solid mess in mere moments and within the shredding and maiming, Dante had a strange thought. He highly anticipated for Nero to come crashing in, always itching for a fight, but it didn't happen. What the hell was up with that? And this thought didn't help his state and their propblem, but only fueled his anger.

"Nero!" His dark, deep voice echoed through the house and shook the old stone walls to the core. If that wouldn't wake anyone up from their nap, then it only confirmed his suspicion. Nero was gone. He half hoped and half cursed, that Devon might be with him.

Fantastic.

"Hunter! Close that damn portal. NOW!" Death roared over the sounds of wailing and screeching demons, making short effort of defending the way to the door, while War's massive frame blocked the window. They both pushed back the wave of undead beings singlehandedly though, while Dante stood in the middle, trying to get his consciousnesses back and evading any attacks almost blindly. These things were weak, not able to put a scratch to his scaly armor. So, they were at least a bit lucky.

Then he burst into a low demonic chuckle over his own stupidity, striding over with two steps to simply give the mirror a single yank. The crash was deafening and tiny dark shards flew in every possible direction, the thing broke upon impact, crushing the last two demons that had manged to shove their stinking bodies through, before the portal disappeared with wrecking the mirror.

Sometimes the answer was not the complicated one wringing his brain, but the most simplest thing at hand.

Silence settled after Death cut the last creature's head clean off and it dissolved into a bitter smoke. Dante reverted back and huffed a few times, assuming a hunched forward position with his hands on his thighs. "Well, that got out of hand quickly."

He scaled the damage of his bedroom from under his bangs, sighing longingly. It was reduced to a piled up wreckage. The walls sported various cracks, where War had crushed his victims unceremoniously. His wall of memorabilia lay in ruins. It was a disheartening sight, how it all had been crushed in a single moment. Dammit all to hell.

"Your smart mouth should be talking to your brother, hunter." Death ground out, his voice a memento of how much of his silent burning wrath could cut deeply into ones soul. Dante was still shaking under the influence and powerful burst of his involuntary trigger. It came without a single warning. And here he thought, his control over it was without fault, yet it came as a painful reminder of how much Vergil could get under his skin. Literally.

Dante straightened back up as both riders left the room, flinging the door shut and it cracked, leaving the hinges behind as it fell to the floor. "Great." Dante sighed again, dusting himself off, and stalking out of the room to look where the damn kid was. He grabbed the phone. Time to set his companion huntressess to hunt after his favorite partial-demon kid for a change.

---

City lights came to life, dusk always settling in early under the looming clouds, that promised yet another of the city's infamous downpours. Nero looked up at the mass of dark clouds from inside the car. At least they were going to stay dry and seeing at how empty the streets were, he mused they would be lucky to have a parking spot just outside his favorite cafe.

But in a nutshell, he pretty much enjoyed the ride, liking how abandoned the streets were as soon as darkness came along, for he could drive the car fast and without hindrance. Normal folk just didn't go outside this time of the day, just a few strays here and there. And who could say they were in fact human to boot? Even far away from their district and close to the tower, then again it was a typical occurrence, all those other residential races roamed practically everywhere these days.

Nero and Devon had changed subject not long ago and she had been asking all type of funny and trivial questions, though he didn't mind at all. It all had started, when he turned up the radio. And from that one song she asked him about, learning he was quite the crackhead when it came to music, they ventured out into the movie section, he also never tired to ramble about either. Devon thoroughly enjoyed herself at how talkative he was, filling the silence with other things than all the heavy stuff she had to think about.

They already made a deal of having themed movie nights to show Devon everything she had missed out on. Which lead him to question her about how she had ended up like she did. Surprised at first, but encouraging him without seeming that much embarrassed when it came to open up to him, Devon told him she had lived here ever since.

She had experienced the raising of the tower at first hand, people disappearing over night and the coming of the other races, to which admitted, she never had even thought about up until now. And Nero was baffled and amused about how soemone coudl be so oblivious, which earned him a playful punch to his arm and her whining, because she had forgotten already about his inhuman trait, which left him in a pleasent state of surprise, at how she could have forgotten in the first place.

She told him then, how economics hit such a low, that she lost her already small pay job and the rising of criminal activities, that made her homeless in the first place. It was not safe anymore to stay at one place. She had found a place at first, where she had lived upon meeting Dante the first time, but landlords these days had tripled the rents and another job she couldn't find. It was a cycle she found herself in all too quickly, until she was chased out. All alone, no family, no friends.

Upon the mention of family she had just shut down, vaguely hinting, they weren't around any more, whatever that meant. And Nero decided to not poke into this seemingly sensitive topic. But the vanishing of all those people with the appearance of Temen-ni-gru had been news to him.

The city had indeed a dark history, which very much suited it's exterior and the foul weather. Which brought him back to stare up at those clouds far above their heads, but too close to miss. The rain would come soon. Yet the promise of lounging inside the cozy cafe, eating cake and whatnot and have a civilized conversation about martial art movies, Nero really didn't want to miss out on that one.

He drove faster even, first drops hitting the windshield, along the broad main street without a single other car in sight.

He quickly checked on Devon, finding her staring outside, head in hand and elbow on the armrest. He was about to ask for the umpteenth time if she was alright, but the words never came.

All he heard was a loud crash and the flapping of wings, he thought were a trickery of his own mind. No bird could make such loud noises. As if on cue, his eyes snapped open and it took him a moment to retrace what must have happened, seeing the world oddly from a horizontal perspective. This couldn't be right, his brain responded. He was supposed to be in the car, driving, yet as his shaky vision zoned in further, he saw it laying on top on the sideways, crashed into a building.

He groaned to the aching in his head, trying to locate his limbs, hoping they were still there. His mind was strangely calm about what just had happened. But how he managed to crash the beautiful car was beyond him. His fingers dug into the dirt of the road, scraping his buds open, but the slight sting helped his mind to get back into gear.

He stood, looking around frantically, remembering he hadn't been alone for once but with the woman. "Devon!" He yelled over the gust of wind and the flapping of wings, which suddenly made total sense.

Now there was a sight to behold.

He suddenly saw her. Her leg sticking out of the window of the car. He msut have had crashed through the windshield or out of the driver window. He groaned again, limping towards the car, not caring for the white winged creatures above. Did they do this?

"Still not dead, I see. Demon scum." It was a deep voice, coursing through him like cold water, chilling his demonic blood down. Nero's head snapped up, only fast enough to see the angel, before he was hurled quite a few yards across the street and landing far away from the car's wreck and out of any means to reach Devon before them.

He yelled her name over and over, demanding her to stand up. He saw how she tried to crawl out of the car, astonished she was still alive and able to do so. Nero forced himself to his feet, his loud voice taunting the angels, he counted ten at least, to have their attention pinned on him.

"Hey, you damn pigeons! I'm not dead, yet. Wanna try again?" Nero yanked at his glove to rip it from his devil bringer.

And it sure did the trick, glowing eyes turned to him. Too bad he was still in a lot of pain, making it hard to focus on his devil bringer to take form. Damn, why was it being so hard? "Come on, you stupid thing. Work dammit." As if it would help any, he rolled the joints of his elbow and wrist, trying to loose them, much like a boxer ready for a fight.

The angel closest floated towards him, flapping his wings to form a gust mixed with dirt to hit Nero's face. Oh, so that's how they taunted back? "Nice one." He wiped his eyes off with a defying sneer. "You have to do better than that, you oversize canary."

"Shut your mouth, demon." The hollow voice responded as Nero bared his teeth at him. "That's exactly how roll, poser. Come and get some."

He did his best Bruce Lee impression, snickering to himself at how ridiculous he felt, hightly doubting they might not even know what he was doing. Hell, he didn't even know what he was doing. But all that mattered, was for Devon to have a chance to escape. He knew, they were after him.

She scattered to her feet, staring wide eyed at Nero, taunting the angels away from her. But her feet refused to walk the opposite direction. She wouldn't leave him alone. She heard them call him demon and knew he was doomed to a full on attack, Devon wasn't sure he could withstand. Those being where as terrifying as they where beautiful in al their armored glory.

Nero shook his head at her. Why was she still standing there? But, if he was to yell now, they would go after her. All he could do was hope, she'd catch on and escape.

"Now!" He yelled at them, yet meaning for her to get a move on, actually. Naturally, it did backfire, because they followed his line of sight. "Devon, run for fuck's sake!"

His voice was so full of fear, that she dug her heels into ground, yet feeling every single bone ache under the pressure. She wouldn't get far. She wouldn't, but she had to try nonetheless. A deep breath and she leaped forward, racing away like scared to death animal.

Nero watched in horror, as the first three came down and crashed against him, ready to bash his head in. He was yet again hurled across the street, but this time more his body was prepared. He caught himself mid flight, doing a flip and landed back on his screetching feet. His bringer sung, plucking the first one from the sky to crash him into the ground, grind him in to the concrete and leave a bloody pulp of feathers and insides. The other angels grew frantic.

His bringer expanded at the massive adrenaline rush, he experienced on his first kill. Damn, that felt good. He roared at he next two, flailing his bringer around, aiming to crush them in his fist, wanting to feel the blood gush out and seep through his fingers. It still took a lot of energy to use it, since Vergil had been plucked from his body. He always used it scarcely, but if a situation asked for it, it was this one or none at all. He had to save her.

As long as he could stand, they wouldn't get her, he thought grimly, his confidence fueled by his success to be able to keep them at bay. The angels reformed, though one had dispatched from the flock and closely followed Devon. Nero broke into a sprint, leaving the others alone for a moment while redirecting his bringer to catch that exact one, before he could reach her.

That's when they started a perfectly orchestrated attack on him. Coming from all sides, disturbing him in his attempted attack and his bringer vanished, when they hit him simultaneously. He heard his bones crack, and he saw a shimmer of a blade. Before he could ask himself, where that did come from he felt the sting. Pain exploded behind his eyes and in his guts.

It went through his stomach and up, severing skin from bone, ripping through his muscles and cutting the tendrils to make his right arm go limp. Nero roared. It was a searing pain, which he had never experienced before, as they tried to cut him in half.

His energy flared up at so much pain, his devil blood working hard to not let him die, let alone loose his conscience. He got a hold of a wing, snarling loudly with an otherworldly growl. In all this mess of limbs, he got another hold of an arm and with what inhuman strength he still possessed, he tore at both and one angel apart by his limbs and wing.

Nero then crashed with a loud thud, face first into the cold cobble stone. Pelting rain cooled his heated skin and evaporated on contact. His eyes started to loose focus. He saw Devon sprint along the street in a hazy blur, and despite his injuries, he still tried to get onto his knees.

"RUN!" It was futile. They caught up with her, no matter how loud he would have managed to yell.

Nero felt numb. All he could see was the blood in his eyes. It painted his vision red.

Again, he thought. His energy seized to pulse through him.

The angel grabbed Devon, coming towards them, letting Nero see from up close how he dropped her ungracefully from above, like unwanted dead weight. Just like that.

What cold and merciless creatures they were. The thud echoed through Nero's mind, drowning out everything else. The frantic flapping of wings, which had occupied his hearing before, grew silent - as did everything else. All he could her was her shrieking voice and then nothing.

He had failed again.

And then he screamed. Screamed at the angels to die. Screamed at her to stand up. But nothing happened.

"This one's no mere human." Nero's hearing dimmed. Everything sounded dull, but those words echoed profusely. They weren't talking about him, they already knew he wasn't. They meant Devon. " Yet, she's dead. Let's get the other one first. We'll deal with her later." Another voice replied harshly.

In this moment Nero gave up, falling to his knees and forward on his elbows, burying his face in the only warmth that was left - his glowing arm. He even cut his forehead on the scales. It should have made him angry, it should have had any effect on him, but there was no fight left.

His hearing diminished further, until there was nothing than the sound of his own blood rushing through his heaving frame like the sound of static radio waves. Why was it all so pointless? If he was alone, there was nothing he could do.

Yet, a tearing noise shredded his immobile state of self pity to pieces. Nero's head snapped up, eyes zoning in and out, yet trying to find the source of the sound.

"Hey, you!"

A voice, that should be Devon's, but strangely was not, called out to him. It sounded pwerful. Commanding even. And it made his weak knees steady. And his clouded head cleared a bit. With still shaking hands, Nero forced himself up on all fours. Eyes wide awake at the glowing figure. It was Devon, but at the same time it wasn't, just like the sharp tongue it had used. The shape was much bigger, and she was secured inside.

"Stand up!" The voice yelled, pounding the command into his spinning head, and Nero's body almost moved on it's own accord.

The angels halted at this new turn of events. "As for you. How dare you?" The voice addressed them, becoming low and menacing, yet sill sounding so incredibly young to Nero. Younger than him, he registered almost baffled at his own train of thought. Yet, it held a different power, a defying and cutting edge, that he himself wished he still possessed.

The glowing figure started without a second warning. One angel was ripped apart by huge, ghostly hands glowing golden and seemingly summoned out of nowhere. But he had seen that kind of move before. From Death.

Nero stared, mouth open, but no words to sprout. Their winged attackers halted for a moment, at their dead brethren before they erupted into a flurry of wings and attacks, giving Nero a second to breathe and look closely at the entity, he knew so well. At least the feeling was familiar, which he had experienced a couple of times by now, whenever he had touched Devon. "You're Pesh, aren't you." He spoke more to himself than to get confirmation.

The figure laughed at Nero as he hauled another angel off his form. He laughed of all the things possible. And wasn't it the most delicious sound, inciting a new and fierce courage in Nero's battered body.

"The one and only." Pesh replied cockily, while his huge cloudy hands deflected another attack from their opponents. Nero breathed in relief, sitting back on his heals still out f breath.

Pesh held his hand out, palm facing Nero's puzzled face. "Just a moment, while I get rid of those."

And as he said, he did. Nero watched in awe, glued to the spot at how carelessly he handled Devon's tiny body. He went through the remaining angels like a fire storm, burning where he connected his attack. Nero heard the crashes, amongst other way more unsettling noises. They screamed as they burned to clouds of ash, which the wind blew right back into Nero's horrified face.

Clearly, Pesh didn't realize how fragile a human body could be, or he simply didn't give a damn. Nero knew, that there were more than a few broken bones suffered by now. His anger grew with every new crack to Devon's bones. But Pesh's frame grew brighter and his outlines became sharper by the second, until Nero' eyes could fully see him. Devon seemed to have been pulled inside a shell, that now looked like a human form. Wild blonde hair sat on top of the boy's head, which held a face, so stunning and beautiful, that even Nero sucked in a sharp breath.

Truly an angel. A sight for sore eyes really and ready to soothe any frantic heart.

His clothes were white and whatever gore he unleashed, the fabric certainly was immune to anything resembling a stain. Not that anyone was able to come close enough to touch him anyway. Or it was that pulsing cloud, surrouning his form like an armor. Warm and impenetrable. But Devon still suffered inside from his sheer unmatched powers straining the human inside.

What the hell was this maniac doing to her?

Nero grabbed the closest angel right from under Pesh's nose, feeling his bringer respond to his angered state. Without looking, his bringer crushed the body, before tearing it apart at the midsection. Blood splattered around him, landing on his clothes, in his face and hair. Nero never thought about it ,heaven or hell alike, and what the afterlife would bring, but it occurred to him as he ripped the angel apart, that for these actions alone, he might be denied heaven altogether - for slaying a holy creature and very much so without remorse, if it wasn't already for his demon blood to have closed the gate to him forever from the start.

Nonetheless, he liked how good it felt to tear one of his apart, demonstrating to Pesh how easily he was able to kill the heavenly offsprings. Nero wouldn't stand by idly and let Pesh hurt her in an intolerable cruel and unnecessary way, if he could help. So, he tried to speed up the fight, so Pesh wouldn't have to strain Devon's body any longer.

"Hah! So you can fight! Why didn't you do so earlier, instead of giving up so easily?" Pesh gloated, making the him squirm under his sharp eyes. The last angel fell to the ground, as Pesh squished his neck carelessly.

Nero decided he didn't like Pesh one bit, for rubbing his face right into the matter, like a pup's nose into his own poop. What did he know anyway? "Shut the hell up." Nero huffed, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulder the devil bringer was attached to.

Pesh grinned a smug grin, despite knowing he went kind of overboard. But it felt so good to be able to move again. Adrenaline rushes of battles, as short as they were, were the best kind. And the worst, for they made you forget the pain, which this time wasn't his alone to bear. So, he maybe should indeed apologize to Devon later.

Flexing his muscles, he gave Nero a disapproving sneer. "She's healing in no time. Besides, I would n't have come out, if you hadn't done so poorly. You can't just wait for Devon to have a near death experience every time, feel sorry and wait for me to pull you from the neck deep shit you're in."

Nero blinked. And sputtered incoherent words, which could be a repetition of his own last words, for all Pesh could make out from him. His judging stare didn't falter. "Devil my ass." He rolled his eyes, while he muttered under his breath, before he directed his words back at Nero." Your kind always gets me agitated. For many reasons..." Pesh's words stung further and deeper, but Nero's mind fully focused on the fact, that this angel had a very foul mouth.

"Where the hell have you learned to speak like that?" Nero all but blurted the question out, knowing his undeniable fault and uselessness of the inquiry, even before he received a scorching glare. Those eyes were unsettling him to his very core.

"Geez, you're dense one, aren't you." Pesh scolded him harshly, shoving his glare further into Nero's bloodied face. If he thought, he could intimidate the devil though, he was sorely mistaken. Nero gritted his teeth, so hard, he thought he might pulverize his canines to blunted stumps.

Pesh grinned smugly at Nero, enjoying how easily affected the boy was. "I believe we have more pressing matters to deal with and I suggest you get your act together, pal."

"Well, pal." Nero wiped his nose, before he sneered back at the angel. "Back inside with you then. We have to get back home. I got it from here."

Pesh only laughed silently, while cracking his neck and knuckles. "I hope you do. I can save her as many times as I want, but you had a one-use-only term, which you totally wasted I might add. Well, nice chat and all, but you really grind down on my nerves." Pesh shook himself, like he wanted to get rid of something unpleasant, and when he merged back inside, he pinched his nose. "By the way, you stink. If I were you, I would do something about that uncanny demon smell."

"Why you-" But Nero stopped dead mid complain, as Devon staggered forward, the glow still bright and vibrant, but Pesh already dissolving and reverting back Pesh's voice sounded once more, yet like far off already, as if he was shouting from a deep and dark cavern. "Hold on." And with Pesh's last deed of the day, Devon's delicate fingers wrapped around Nero's wrists and pulled his arms around her waist. "Tightly." Pesh's voice echoed quietly and then the glow was gone, Devon's body sagged into Nero's embrace, catching him off guard.

He got down to his knees, pulling her closer to his chest. He furrowed his brows and watched closely, waiting for a proof of life. Her breathing hitched a few times, and the muscles in her face twitched. Nero's hold involuntarily tightened, relief washing over him like warm waves under the a relaxing summer breeze. He swore for a minute, he could even smell the salty sea and somehow a sweet, spicy fragrance of green valleys covered with millions of wild growing flowers, carpeting the green grasses, weighing softly in the warm winds.

"Devon.." He called her name in a quiet voice, when she moved her limbs, to prove she was still alive.

His voice startled her into snapping her eyes open. "Where is he?" She jerked up, almost hitting her forehead on Nero's, who luckily managed to evade the impact.

"Hey, easy there. He's gone. Back inside I guess." He muttered, still not fully comprehending what had just happened. He really did meet the angel, and certainly not in a way he could have seen coming. And certainly he had been not what Nero had expected him to be. A real angel. It was ridiculous, he almost laughed at the thought, that this creature was nothing short of a cocky bastard, but in high contrast sported strubbly blonde hair and a face, that'd make you cry, if you saw it. Just the attitude had Nero so dumbfounded, his brain failed to put up with this revelation.

Of course the angel had been unfortunately, incredulously handsome. And somewhere in the back of his mind, it bugged the hell out of Nero. But what did he really expect then?

Still not minding the cuddled up position they were in, Devon wiped her eyes with the back of her bloodied hands, which got Nero back quickly to the there and then. "Come on. You can stand, can you?" He carefully helped Devon to get onto her shaky feet, verifying her approval with a nod.

"I'm fine." Devon then whispered, holding onto him for dear life when her legs wobbled a bit. "I think." She gave him a nervous laugh, and all the while registered, he was holding her still taightly around her waist. And the warmth of the touch felt nice on her freezing frame.

Nero tilted his head trying to smile, still concerned but more convinced when she could laugh already. It seemed truly like yet again, Pesh had mended every single fracture, cut and bruise, and at an alarming speed, so much faster than the last time. The lone fact, that the bastard must be getting stronger, was all Nero took from that observation.

They continued to grin at each other like idiots, knowing how lucky they had been. Nero searched her eye to find any traces to that glow from before, but relaxed when he didn't see it, meaning that this was truly Devon in a warm body with a beating heart in his hold. Alive and well. And then he smiled at her, like it was the first time discovering, he could smile. A smile so bright, it melted the icy grip, Devon still felt on her bones, all away from head to toe.

The warmth spread from his arms over to her and she could feel the slow, tantalizing burn up unto her cheeks. Despite the situation they had just been hurled into and the chaos around, it seemed to dull down until only they both where left in a silent cocoon away from the horrors of a world spiraling into a chaos, both had still no clue about.

It was as if the whole world took a deep breath and held it, to stop it all from crashing down for a minute. Only for them to have a look into each others eye. This moment was all theirs.

Devon didn't need to realize. She knew. Her heartbeat was rampaging in her chest, cheering her on along the course of action, as she lost herself in the sky blue eyes and wishing they'd never fade and look for her always, even if chaos was all there was left around them.

Nero tilted his head down, further and further, holding his breath, not really knowing, if he should be doing anything like this. His head was strangely empty, yet felt like it was stuffed with unaccountable worries of a past lifetime. He didn't care for the blood and grime on their faces, how his hold might had tightened a tad bit more to be slightly painful, when he could almost feel the feathery touch of her lips, but still a hair apart from one another. His eyes fluttered shut, just before he pushed forward. No last ditched effort to hold back. No restrain from his whirlwind of thoughts. Just his instinct.

Devon merely flinched, as a buzzing in her body erupted, until she thought she might got electrocuted, if a simple, soft touch of Nero would even be able to do this to her. She tried her best in her confused state to feel it with every fiber of her body, memorizing the light graze of his lips along hers.

The bells didn't sound - they shrieked violently in her head. As if they were caught up in a storm of a warning and tingled wildly in disharmony upon their lips first touch. Her eyes snapped open, jerking away, before it could truly become a first kiss.

Nero mirrored her action, looking shocked and hurt. His breath erupted into a shaky long drawn out breath. What was going on? Devon had jumped as if she had been burned, shivering under a pain, that had no evident cause.

"You okay?" Nero asked fairly distraught, yet despite himself and the embarrassment he experienced. He let go of her abruptly and averted his gaze to look over the top of her head with widened eyes, distractinghim completely .Someone was coming and Nero's spritis dropped even further.

Devon's answer was drowned out by the loud sound of not one but two motorcycles drawing near. And Nero knew the sound by heart, not having to wait until they came into view around the corner to know exactly who it was. Now talk about timing.

The deep roar was Dante's bike and the slightly crackling hum came from Lady's. They both waited for it to come closer, but Nero was pleasently surprised when it was Trish who accompanied Lady, greeting them with a wave of his hand as they parked next to them

"Need a ride?" Trish greeted in her usual smugness, whereas Lady inspected their surroundings slightly astonished. "What happened here?"

Nero jerked his head towards the crashed car, and it broke his heart all over again. It was a wreck, decorated with the body of a dead angel. "We got attacked." At least the car didn't go down without a fight. He had really loved the car.

"Wow. I see." The women exchanged a brief look, meaning to report back to the shop as fast as possible and getting Nero and Devon back with them.

"You look terrible." Trish acknowledged with a mocking look of disapproval to her beautiful face, but Nero scoffed, before he broke into a matching grin. "You just saw the other guys? I look spiffy compared to them."

Seeing him acting in his usual demeanor, Trish patted the backseat for good measure. "Then hop on. And let's get you cleaned up. I'm not into the dirty, scruffy looks in men at all." Her flirty remark earned her a noncommittal grunt from Devon, who found it slightly disturbing at the crazy turn of events, not knowing how Trish rivaled Dante in so many aspects. Nero found it quite amusing, for he got used to it by now.

"I'll keep that in mind." He retorted, ruffling his sticky hair and swishing it out of his eyes in the process, as he seated himself behind the black clad woman.

"Are you alright? You look like like you've seen a ghost." Lady asked Devon, featuring a sympathetic look and tone.

"No...I mean yes." Devon stammered, shaking her head before nodding. "I mean...forget it."

"I believe we haven't met yet, but I'm Lady." The brown haired introduced herself, reaching a hand out. Devon stared for a moment, before grabbing it, knowing she heard the strange name before, but her head hadn't fully restarted yet it would seem.

"Save the introductions for later. I really like to haul ass out of here." Nero urged without turning from his position, ready to get home to whatever awaited him there. Anywhere was better than this. The rain was pouring down and they would all be drenched by the time they got home.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Lady didn't wait for Devon to be seated properly, working the bike into a roaring frenzy, ready to race Trish to the shop. Over the loud sounds of the bike, Devon could hear Lady yelling at her to hold on tight. And because this was frightening as hell, Devon willingly complied, digging her hands into the woman's clothes as much as her shaky and sore fingers allowed. This woman was mad. Riding with Dant had been nothing compared to this.

Nero would have enjoyed the ride more if it weren't for the shitty weather and his traitorous mind, that kept springing back to that exact moment, where his lips had almost landed full on on Devon's. He had been so damn relieved to find her yet alive, it practically happened all on automatic mode, which was even more disconcerting. He had been a mere bystander to his actions. He prayed, he would be able to watch it the next time, something like this would happen.

Next time... Who the hell was he kidding? Devon's reaction was more than sufficient for him to understand it had been a big no-no.

"What were you up to anyway?" Nero asked Trish, half out of interest, half out of needing to shut his babbling brain up.

"Oh, the usual. Still looking for a hint to Danzig's whereabouts. Hanging out with Johnny. Oh, and the occasional demon to slay. Naturally."

"Naturally." Nero repeated, slightly grinning to himself. "Sounds not too bad, minus the Johnny part, of course." It was an open secret, that Nero did not like Johnny and his loose mouth. Which wasn't really that out of the ordinary, for everybody these days seemed to sport that kind of feat. Yet, with Johnny things where different. That bastard always misused his powers to make fun of people. Mostly Dante had been on the receiving end and the man had no shame to account for, so him and Johnny shared a good laugh. But with Nero, things had ventured far deeper into privacy on more than one occasion.

And Nero did not take too kindly to it, setting him on par with Vergil. They both had sworn to the siren, that one day they would come and stuff his ridiculous banjo, which he named Clandestine for no apparent reason, up his sorry ass. He also liked to play from time to time for the sole amusement of his guests, to which people always reacted wildly. He was an enchanter all right and Nero didn't like people to mess withhis mind. So he stayed the hell away from that place, even if Johnny was mostly harmless.

"I knew you'd say that. Anyway, let's get back. It's freezing out here." Trish sped up immediately to underline her statement.

"No arguing there."

---

"Oh good. You found them." Dante did a flourish at his two favorite companions as of now, because they never did anything stupid and did as they had been told, what could not be said for the two wrecked figures, that waddled in behind them. As if it would help to shield them from his piece of mind, he had been preparing while waiting at his desk with a sour mood. Things have not been good today and on the receiving end where Nero and Devon, because Vergil had been nowhere in sight after the incident.

"Not good for you, though." Dante said in a low voice as his eyes took a gander at the the blood and torn clothes both kids sported.

Lady nodded towards the kitchen and Trish merrily obliged her silent request to get out of Dante's hair. He was pissed and not putting up a show to hide it for once. Before they left, they could briefly see Dante, without his usual swagger though, cross the room to stand right in front of Nero. The kid was in deep shit.

Nero stared back, chin held high, in order to show how empty those words were to him. Even if it wasn't solely for him, they were alive and had gotten rid of a horde of angels, to which Nero also thought, that they did a pretty good job and his work for Dante no less, since he planned on scheming with the riders instead of gearing into actions much needed, than grovel at the riders feet.

"Kid. I gave you a warning. I don't know what to do with you. I mean, don't I look out for your sorry ass all the time? And here you go and getting yourself almost killed, but dragging her into your mess as well? Are you out of your mind?"

"Is this the part where you tell me how disappointed you are?" Nero's sharp voice sliced the thickening air, and Dante swore he could hear the women in the kitchen simultaneously cooing 'Ohhh'. Dante's knuckles cracked loudly, as he squeezed his fists into tight balls, ready to punch some holes in God knows what. But his control was much better than that, when it cam eto Nero and lucky for him as well.

"Get out of my sight."

Nero blinked at him. He anticipated Dante to rampage, trying to cut his head off and screwing it back on straight. Needless to say, Nero twitched under the adrenaline he had felt bubbling up, when meeting Dante's furious eyes. The older man merely brushed past him without a second look and towards Devon. For her he had been more concerned than anything else. His anger dissipated under her devote stare.

Nero didn't move, not knowing what to really make of this. He was being ignored, and if that didn't sting more than the actual rant he thought to hear. It left him strangely empty. Unfulfilled. Craving. And under the action of blinking angry tears away, which no one could see, he came to a single realization. When they had come in, he wanted to get yelled at. He wanted the attention. All of it.

But now, with having nothing, not even a single look from the man, who was supposed to be his mentor, let alone friend, he felt the crushing feeling of a deep and dark disappointment. But Dante wasn't the one to blame alone. Nero knew, he had done something wrong along the way. And he couldn't come up with a solution to make it stop. The void within, that spread daily and he thought he had defeated, stared back at him and with full force.

Dammit. "Dante..."

"Zip it. I don't wanna hear it. In fact, I don't wanna hear anything coming out of you, until you cleaned up your mess, which is still there, mind you." Neither of them turned, when Dante spoke, but Devon swore she could see Nero heave a sigh or hiccup, while his shoulders slumped down.

Nero nodded, despite not knowing, if Dante could see it or not and then slowly trotted towards the stairs.

"Oh, and while you're at it. My room needs some tidying up as well. A quick sweep, if you will. Minor incident. Could have used you though, but not anymore."

Nero's head snapped around at that and he looked back over his shoulder trying to unriddle that one. His eyes only met Devon's and she saw they were reddened, like his cheeks. He looked so sad, Devon almost wanted to run over and hug him. But Dante's hands let that impulse die down from the start. Maybe he felt, what she was about to do. Maybe it was a subconscious thing. So, Devon did nothing and watched him turn without another word and go upstairs.

"I'm sorry, Dante." Devon apologized, after nero had left, avoiding his gaze altogether. "You know this was incredibly stupid. And what the hell happened to you? Are you okay?" Dante held her by her shoulders, staring into her face, looking for any signs of pain.

"I am. Just a few ruined clothes. Not that I mind, really." Devon inspected the rips in her jeans, where her knees now peeked out and then twisted her arms to see that the sweater did not fare any better, before she smiled sheepishly up at Dante with a shrug.

"If you say so. I'm just glad you're okay." He gave her another once over, assuring himself that she indeed sported no injury. Even if her knees had been scraped, much like her elbows he assumed, his eyes were met with nothing but intact skin through torn fabric. He sighed at how lucky she should feel. Or maybe she did know.

"Pesh saved me. Saved us both actually." Devon admitted in a small voice, letting Dante's eyes match the size of saucers.

"Is that so?" Dante asked genuinely surprised, then guided her in front of him and towards the kitchen. "Come on. Let's have a nice and long chat over a cup of coffee. I have the feeling I missed out on you."

"A coffee sounds good." Dante pursed his lips, confused at the sound of Devon's voice, which suddenly had grown exceptionally deep and raspy. His slightly confused brain failed him for a second as he looked down on her, wanting the find a complete sane explanation for this sudden change.

"Dante." The voice sounded impatient, however a tad bit amused. Plus, a deep sigh was added for good measure.

The use of his name, from a voice so familiar and friendly and so warm, did make him turn on his heel slowly.

Into focus came a dusty coat and layers upon layers of dark, but dirty fabric thrown carelessly over skinny shoulders and an even skinnier, but lanky and tall frame. Dante gaped at him, throwing his arms up. "Danzig...finally!"