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)

15. solace

Solace

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Pesh stood on the roof three houses away from the shop, nose turned upwards and into the strong winds. He inhaled deeply and his eyes narrowed. There was movement in the shop Devon now called her home and soon, he heard the voice of Nero and Dante's brother.

Pesh stared ahead. Bitter smoke was in the air, from ashes, burnt flesh and singed feathers, carried over in the breeze like a snake unfurling to sink it's teeth into his heart. The steady rain didn't help to wash it away either. The blood had boiled and was black. So much death. He felt it in and all over his existence. It was disgusting him. Yet he was strangely calm, his heart sat where his mind was, and didn't beat. But his soul vibrated, his form of pure energy pulsated with it. Or maybe it was his heart, just not a physical one. What did he know.

He heard a soft, barely audible thud and Vergil stood next to him. Pesh's eyes gazed sideways to give him a swift once over. His coat rustled in the breeze. But other than that, he was also exceedingly calm and silent. He didn't address Pesh's appearance nor questioned his reasons. Instead, his voice sounded cold and business as usual. "We got a call, there's work to do."

Pesh finally turned his head, stunned by the courtesy the devil gave him and also because Nero reached them to stomp towards Pesh with a look on his face, that spelled trouble for the angel.

"What are you doing? Where's Devon? Is she okay?" While Nero blurted out his demanding questions, he invaded Pesh's personal bubble, but his face soon changed, caught off guard and staggering back with an a wide eyed expression on his face. Might have been shock. Or realization. Or both.

Vergil cleared his throat, grabbing Nero by the elbow to pull him back even more. Pesh watched them both with an interested stare, waiting until they were finished. Nero's demonic arm flared up at Vergil's touch.

The younger shook Vergil's hand off and rolled his elbow. The blue twin's hand was cold as ice and it quickly seeped through the many layers of fabric and down his arm. The glow on his right side died down, as soon as Vergil let go.

"Just take a few steps back, it isn't as strong if you bring some distance between you and him."

Nero opened his mouth, but a second passed before he could speak. The whiff of the familiar smell did diminish though, as he did as told. He staggered backwards still, until it dies down, before he spoke. "How'd you know?"

"That's not the first angel I've met. I'm aware of that unpleasant trait all too well. Just focus, keep your distance for now and you'll get used to it." Vergil stated dismissive and ominous, indicating he didn't want to dive further into the matter.

Nero understood and berated himself for reacting so strongly to it in the first place. He scrunched up his nose and shrugged, as if to let Vergil know it was nothing but a bothersome inconvenience.

But it wasn't.

The smell of sea and salt and warm sun on the endless, rolling waves gave him a cold shiver down his spine and a metaphorical punch in the gut. He'd never thought, he'd once miss Fortuna, but he did. In the cold rain and dark night, he missed Fortuna and the only thing that was attached to it as a forever happy memory, which could make him cry always. He'd never forget Kyrie and her sweet perfume, collecting seashells and giddily jumping to escape the much colder sea waves, that had been lazily rolling up the shoreline, they had used to walk along, happy to get Credo and the Order out of his hair for only an afternoon. Despite all the shit, people had given him, Kyrie always had managed to overpower all of it with only her presence.

Nero's throat tightened as he once more rolled his shoulders in an nervous attempt to get rid of the feeling for now. They had urgent matters to take care of and, as Vergil had said, he needed to focus.

Vergil, despite himself, was very much aware of Nero's short struggle to keep his bubbling emotions in check. Vergil knew all too well, that it would take some time to adjust. But the fact, that from now on, they might had to linger in the presence of angels deliberately, it was best to clarify some things for Nero, so he did understand and was prepared for it. Nothing could be more dangerous than a sudden, triggered emotion. It could determine your death, the moment you lost focus, it could determine fate.

Vergil observed Nero closely, silently giving him credit for trying. His lips were a thin line and his jaw tight, but his eyes were clear and had Vergil in sight, as he nodded. "I was the same as you, so don't worry. But, it'll pass, once you know what to expect."

Nero snorted, implying to be already done with it. "It's annoying." Vergil slicked his hair back, that quickly had been soaked and tousled by the winds, clutching to his forehead and hanging into his eyes. Now, that was annoying no less. He also noted, that his temporary state protected him from the effect of Pesh. Vergil didn't smell anything, except for the same stink of rain and gutter.

Pesh had started to tap his left foot to the constant staccato of the battering water drops on the flat roof, crossing his arms over his chest. His head was lolling to one side, making it clear, how exceedingly bored he was with having to listen to the two going on about the scent of angels, which smelled different to every person. Pesh knew that, and he secretly wished to know, but usually people kept it to themselves, for it wasn't always nice. It conjured memories long forgotten. Memories that should be happy ones, but with the humans and demons rotting on earth in a steady dance with darkness around, you'd never know. And judging by Nero's behavior, for him it also seemed to have a painful background. The boy was so full of sorrow, Pesh shouldn't even be surprised about his reaction.

But one thing puzzled him more. Vergil's comment on how he wasn't the first angel. And it certainly couldn't have been Danzig, who hid behind a thick wall of magic unknown to both twins, that no one could penetrate. Except for Pesh apparently.

"May I ask, who the angel was, you had encountered to gain knowledge about this?" Pesh didn't bother to hide his curiosity, expecting Vergil to read through him regardless. He was a keen mind, so Pesh deemed it best to be upfront with him from the get go. Vergil also didn't tend to mince words, which Pesh found rather refreshing.

"I'd rather not stir around that particular story. Just know, it was a long time ago. Another life even."

Pesh quirked an eyebrow at his dodgy attempt of an answer, which he wouldn't let pass. He fully turned towards Vergil, small smile playing on the corner of his lips. It was unsettling to Vergil, not knowing how much Pesh was able to read and how much he actually knew, despite being asleep for so long.

Vergil clicked his tongue in annoyance, however beginning to think what harm it could really do. He certainly had the feeling, he hadn't seen the last of Lucifer back then anyway. And with Danzig around and trouble not far off but getting worse, already surrounding them perhaps, there was the slim possibility of him showing up either way. He and Danzig were friends after all. By now, knowing of the secret about Danzig's origin they probably had shared, if Lucifer really knew, it was even more likely and reasonable instead. Vergil almost laughed at his own naivety. He was sure, the old devil knew, who Danzig truly was. And the link between them out in the open, Vergil couldn't help to think, they might be related - as the so called cherry on top. At last, it all put some things into perspective for him.

And wouldn't it make Pesh a relative of the former King of Hell, as well, if this would be true?

"Lucifer." Vergil stated, with a sour look, like the name tasted bitter, rolling from the tip of his tongue.

Pesh blinked. "Come again?" But it was only to buy time and process, what he thought Vergil did just say. And naturally, Vergil didn't repeat, but gave him a scoff.

"Damn." Pesh shook his head. It was really all he could say. "I didn't know, he was still around." He sounded genuinely surprised.

"You can ask Danzig about him. As far as I know, they sporadically have contact. My brother and I, we both met him. He is alive and well – was at least back then, haven't seen him since then. But, I'm sure he still is."

Pesh bowed his head in thanks to Vergil having the courtesy to yet again share his information, more or less willingly, though he believed, Danzig would have told him sooner or later.

"Well, it's nice and all. And I don't mind the rain or the cold. But, didn't we have something to do?" Nero's voice sounded sarcastic to the bone, plus he even mustered a sneer at Vergil, as he pointed into the general direction of the club, they were supposed to be liberating.

Little did Nero know of Johnny and his ways to defend himself. Vergil still did bow like a gentleman asking for a dance. "Of course. Shall we then?"

"Save it," Nero spat at the mockery, before turning to Pesh. "And you. You didn't answer. How's it, you're out?"

Pesh pursed his lips and puffed his cheeks out. "I was allowed to. Devon is fine, she's resting. And she needs it." He put his hands on his hips, assuming a stance ready to berate them. "And you are advised to keep an eye one her. You all are at a serious advantage, when she's only human. You ought to look after her. Make her eat. Let her sleep. This is by no means a proper treatment for a human, you inconsiderate fools."

Nero gaped at him, opening and closing his mouth indignantly. But after it sunk in, despite the harsh and reproachful tone Pesh used, he lowered his head. "You're right. But there's a lot going on. And I know she has you to watch over her."

"I do, as much as I can. But this", Pesh motioned up and down his body, "is not good for her either. Whenever I channel this much energy to do this, I'm draining her. Irrevocably."

With the last word, that hit Nero right in the clenching guts, a tremor ran along the city. Deep underneath where the roots of the ancient city lay, it beat and echoed through the stone like a single pound on a huge drum.

Pesh looked down to his feet as tiny pebbles fell from the ledge he was standing close to. Vergil and Nero involuntarily did the same with eyes widening. "What the hell was that," Nero asked after a slow second.

"It seems my brother is being busy," Pesh muttered darkly. Danzig had used the gate, that much he knew for certain. But for what purpose would he do that?

"Both yours and mine are," Vergil replied, not entirely sure, how to feel about that. The angel next to him gave away nothing, as he straightened his posture. And Vergil got the feeling, Pesh knew, what was going on.

"Right." Pesh snapped his fingers. "You said work. Let's do some work."

"Finally." Nero sighed, before they jumped to the next roof. Pesh was fast, so fast Vergil had to teleport along, leaving Nero behind quickly, who huffed in annoyance. "Leave some for me, will ya!"

Pesh laughed into the storm with his ringing voice. "I highly doubt there's anyone left, save for one!"

And it was true.

Nero soon enough saw, what he had meant, still mulling over the fact, Pesh willingly accompanied them and Vergil did let him. But it was as Nero had said, he was a strong opponent, for whoever did attack the club.

Nero arrived on scene a minute later, having to pull and stretch to keep up with his companions. And when he did it was a sobering sight. Many corpses lay strewn around the barely intact vicinity. The sign only hanging by a few cables, sparks flying around and dying as soon as the rain let them die in a fizz, drenched the area in a creepy red light.

"Johnny...?" Nero questioned the whereabouts of the owner, with little hope.

Vergil approached a gaping hole in the wall. It was the only way in, seeing as the entrance was destroyed and blocked altogether by debris and the broken double doors. "Inside, maybe." With that, he ducked through the ominous dark passage, closely followed by Pesh and Nero, who still tried to catch his breath. His arm came to life in the dark, a sure sign that something did survive.

"Hey, hold your arm up and shine a light for us," Pesh whispered over his shoulder, finding it funny on one side, but also quite useful on the other. The annoyed stare he got in return was indeed worth the comment.

"I'm not your personal flashlight, you know," Nero whisper-yelled back at the angel with the obnoxious grin.

"What's a flashlight?"

"Just go." Nero didn't know how to answer. Was Pesh pulling his leg or was he really that clueless? But before he could dive to the bottom of how much Pesh was familiar with this day and age, Vergil held his hand up to get their attention and point towards the back. A heavy steel door, with numerous dents and scratches, deep and jagged, seemed still intact. Vergil estimated the damage done. It was disheartening to see.

With his bringer Nero indeed illuminated the big room enough, that once housed the big dance floor and gigantic, flashy bar, they could see it was destroyed completely. Nothing was standing or intact, safe for a lonely shot glass rolling across the ground - Pesh had shoved it out of the way with his bare foot - or an expensive leather stool, which had toppled over.

Nero sighed at the destructive force that must have traveled through the place like a hurricane. In his mind he heard the echo of flapping wings, reaching for his gun out of pure instinct.

They carefully crossed the room towards the steel door, that could hold off an entire battalion, and apparently also rampaging angels. But on closer inspection, they could see it was deformed and someone had to use great strength to pull it close. The gap it showed between frame and door was evidence for a bare success.

"Let me." Pesh pushed past Vergil, grabbing the handle, only to break it off. Pesh grunted, slightly peeved and threw it over his shoulder, missing Nero by a hair, but only because he dodged the thing actively.

Nero snarled at the angel's irrational sloppiness. "You little..."

Vergil rolled his eyes. It was like walking around with two Dante's all right. Before he could voice out his discomfort at his current situation, Pesh pried the door open, bending it's deformed hinges further. The noise made them all flinch.

Vergil readied Yamato, the cling echoed after the metal scraping noises in a sweet, deathly tone. Nero couldn't help the goosebumps breaking out at the sound of it.

"Well, we've rung the bell. Twice." Vergil spoke in his normal voice, devoid of any indication about what he thought at seeing this once lively place with the bouncing music and a bass that made his teeth vibrate, so desolate and dead. However, Vergil had to admit, it was a shame to see it like this. Though Dante had been the regular here, he too had come over once in a while. Johnny would unscrew some ancient bottle of wine and they would talk until morning. Or he would watch the self proclaimed entertainer and torch singer on one of the rare occasions on stage, which had indeed been highly amusing and good for a laugh.

Pesh peered into the dark hallway behind the door. Someone was clearly there, like he had estimated from afar earlier. Now it was Vergil, who pushed past him, to strut into the darkness and towards the wooden door at the end of this dramatically lengthy hallway.

Vergil didn't have to knock, because the moment he reached it, with the other on their toes in tow, the door opened by itself, to let warm light flood out and chase the darkness away briefly, before they all stepped inside and the door closed silently.

Johnny sat behind his desk, which looked like it got dragged through blood and mud. The carpet was in rugs and the rest of the room didn't look any better. So Vergil's initial guess came to a disheartening truth. The door didn't stand a chance. Why Johnny had even bothered to put the steel door back in place was beyond him.

Vergil watched Johnny carefully, how he sat in his leather chair, which he might have picked up from the ground, for it too had scratches all over. One armrest was missing and the black leather was slashed, with the stuffing peeking out. Johnny lounged in it with his feet on his desk. His feet were soiled with dried blood, his clothes yet were surprisingly untouched. His white-blonde hair was ruffled and pulled back into a very messy ponytail. The trademark banjo lay across his lap, both hands clutching the blue corpus like a dead lover.

The twin was distraught at how worn out the siren looked. And only now he noticed the half empty bottle of whiskey, the neck entirely missing, and the sharp smell that wafted over because of that. Johnny must have been sitting here like this since the phone call, he assumed. No enemy was in sight. Dead. Or worse. They had fled.

"They're all gone." Johnny finally spoke with a long defeated sigh. He grabbed the bottle and took a swig, not too carefully watching the sharp edges. It wouldn't matter one way or the other, for his face showed also a gruesome amount of slashes, which should be healed by now, but the crust of blood still visible told them he did fight directly and probably for his life.

"I'm sorry, Johnny." Vergil stepped closer, still observing the eerily calm siren in harsh contrast to the amount of destruction to the room.

"So many dead. It was a swift strike. Hard and swift. Some escaped into the night and all I can do is to hope they made it to safety. They killed humans and demons alike. It didn't make a difference. They wanted them all dead. And pretty much succeeded." He hiccuped and his face became wet from fresh tears, as he drained the bottle in a long gulp, before he let it fall to the ground where it rolled towards them from underneath the desk.

Pesh watched it with interest, not knowing the scent of this drink the demon in front of him consumed so deliberately. His heart like the corpse of a ship into dark depth. The demon was full of remorse and sorrow, he could taste it on his tongue, the oily bitterness of pain and the salty burn of agony.

"They were to many. But, you did save some, and it's all that matters. You tried." Strange enough, it wasn't Vergil talking, but a voice Johnny had never heard before in his life. And by that Johnny didn't mean like, he never heard that person before, but never in his entire life had he heard a voice like that.

He lifted his desolate face and a devastated look met Pesh. The angel felt like hitting a colossal, supremely solid, yet utterly invisible wall in his head. And this was the last thing he expected – to crash right through it and even gain momentum as he propelled towards that epiphany, the same he had subtly felt himself with meeting the twins and Nero. Here was another demon, a creature of eternal, watery graves and dark depth, sitting right there in the shining neon light of a foreign world - and he wept for the ones, whom were lost, with all his heart.

Johnny sniffed. "I did." He wiped his still gorgeous face, despite the carnage it did testify to have seen, and nodded to himself. "I tried."

Pesh crossed the small space and walked around the desk. He noted the instrument on the siren's lap, all strings were broken, safe for one. And like a tiny silver lining it seemed, and not only to Pesh. "You made them pay."

Johnny watched the hand petting his banjo and then another, strong and reassuring, on his trembling shoulder. He felt the touch burn. And it warmed him up from where it lay to spread this serene comfort for his profound regret. Solace.

"Yes. I left none alive."

"You did right. This was a serious crime. And it had been paid for in blood." Pesh's strength seemed to connect, like his words and Johnny felt his ache all the more, but also his heart did become lighter under Pesh.

Vergil and Nero stood rooted on their spots, watching Pesh radiate and glow. His fierce eyes alight as he pulled Johnny from his vale of tears with only a single attempt. Sirens do love their sadness as much as their happiness. And Pesh would try to make him happy again. The creature had defended his kin desperately and just alike, he did fight for the poor humans, that now lay outside, with dead eyes towards the darkened sky.

"The fight will go on." Pesh concluded, voice as firm as his touch, Johnny eventually looked up at the blonde, he didn't know and never once saw the likes of him in his life, but he felt to be trusted. His pearly eyes blinked up at the brightness, the room suddenly was in.

"Will you?" The angel looked down with a soft expression and Johnny nodded. "I will."

And as he found his own firmness in his mind and body, he attempted to stand and was pulled up like one pole of a magnet by it's counterpart. Johnny knew magic. He practiced magic and he was a magical, mythical creature through and through. However, the blonde boy had a completely different kind of arsenal flowing from the open palm of his hand. It was as frightening as it was compelling. Johnny drank it all up only to crave for more. And the scent of cotton candy and bourbon, vanilla and his favorite cigar brand cleared his mind, rather than to cloud it. Exceptional.

"What are you? Who are you," Johnny asked, as they stood in front of one another. The siren easily towered over most people, being a few inches taller than the twins no less, but Pesh met him almost on eye level, magnificent golden swirls, that Johnny fell into and needed to clutch the desk with one hand, staggering backwards but found his composure quickly. That also came a little unexpected.

Pesh grabbed his other hand in order to first shake it, also secondly out of concern the siren might fall over. "I am Pesh. Happy to make your acquaintance." As if that would explain everything, he didn't feel the need to add anything further, adding to Johnny's general befuddlement.

"Is that how you kids introduce yourself these days?" Johnny's wit though hadn't entirely left him. He cocked his head to the side, slightly amused.

Nero just shook his head at Pesh, but answered the siren on the angel's behalf. "He doesn't know to human. Or whatsoever. Don't mind him."

Pesh let go of Johnny to give Nero a disapproving glare, while the club owner stared back and forth between his hand and Pesh's disgruntled face, that had turned towards the younger hunter.

"What do you mean, he doesn't know?" His voice sounded absent and he didn't even pay attention to his own mouth, because he felt the strong urge to grab Pesh's hand once more, but resisted. Barely.

"He's a new colleague. For now." Vergil told Johnny, who was still too busy to look at his hand and the tingling aftermath of the touch. He couldn't put his finger on it.

Pesh let out a laugh to Vergil's dodgy reply. "Let's not go that far." Nero could only look confused, before he went straight on to concur Pesh, confusing Vergil just the same. "Yeah. Let's not."

Nero though was fairly puzzled by Vergil and his overall approach towards Pesh. Maybe he saw something that wasn't there? Maybe he saw more, than Nero did? He did have to give Pesh credit though. Actually, he owed him. He wasn't sure what, not really thinking he might have lost his life at the car crash and in retrospect, Devon was pretty much out of death's reach for as long as Pesh was here, yet every day it also was a step closer to it. Oh, the irony wasn't lost on Nero either. However, there, where he believed, he'd feel only bitterness towards a being, bringing him nearer to the thought of being powerless, it also held on small ray of light. Heaven did exist, and he was sure, wherever Kyrie was, it must have been there.

But that granted him another truth, he already had buried in his mind – Hell also was a real place. And surely, he would go there. He'd never see her again. The cursed blood would see to it. Nonetheless, Nero felt solace, when looking at Pesh. Solace in really having knowledge of something true for once in his life. And somehow, he felt lighter with it.

They made their way back outside and into the rain, but it had stopped. There was a sad silence surrounding them. Water trickled somewhere out of sight, probably from a busted pipe, the sizzling from the electric current had stopped, the sign had went dark. Johnny sighed at the sight of his once glorious place of leisure and momentary bliss. "Look at it."

His eyes scanned the dead bodies. Angels, humans, demons. All together and their blood mixing quietly and slowly seeping into the stone and down the gutter to God knows where. If it could be this easy as they had been alive. Mixing together and go along with it.

Vergil patted Johnny's shoulder, awkwardly, but well meant. "How long do you need?" Of course, he expected him to come with them. And Johnny wouldn't have wanted it any other way. "Few days tops. I need to clean up...and..." His voice failed him and he turned away.

Nero briefly saw the turmoil on his face and Vergil's incapability to find the right words, that haven't already been said. "Hey, just do what you gotta do. You know where to find us, once you're ready."

Johnny waved him off shyly. If Vergil and Nero together made an effort to make someone feel better, and that this one wasn't Dante, it made it clear how much his usual demeanor must be missing. But, it was only natural, right? "I'm fine guys. Thanks. I'll be with you in a few days. Until that, kick some angel ass for me will ya."

The hunters both slipped a look at Pesh, who just shrugged it off nonchalantly. His kin didn't seem worth much these days. He just hoped, it wasn't applying to all the Heaven's.

Johnny's face lit up suddenly, catching their looks. "Oh, goddammit! That's it, isn't it?"

Pesh flinched at his outburst, then watched him giggle like a maniac, but remained silent, waiting for it subside.

"You're one of those?" Johnny blinked incredulous at Pesh, who finally displayed a small smile. "What of it?"

"You're the real deal!" To all their surprise, he seemed happy about it. "I saw them and they didn't feel like you. Not at all. All feathers and wings, but hollow eyes. But, you're different."

Pesh was fully smiling now, lighting up the entire area, as it would seem. "Yes, I am."

"Wow. Just wow." Johnny marveled at the angel and his effortless display of an enchantment, he thought only he could do. Pesh's smile did pluck a smile from all of them, involuntarily or not. It was contagious.

"Why do you act, like I'm a myth out of a drunken fairy tale?" The angel crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifting his weight from one to the other and thrust his left hip out. Sassy.

"Because I never saw one in my whole existence, until now. That's why I couldn't place you. I sensed it, but I couldn't file it under anything I've come across. And let me tell you, I met a whole lotta strange creatures in my time." Johnny explained, to add sense and let him know, he was very satisfied with figuring it out his origin. Pesh was relieved, knowing Johnny did certainly not throw him together with the attackers, but put Pesh on a whole new page in his brain and the extensive knowledge he claimed to have.

"Hey, you know old hags tend to tell stories about sirens? Don't act like I am any different than you." Pesh's voice betrayed his miffed expression. It sounded amused, kind of.

"I'm sorry pal, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to insult you. But man, I met an angel. An actual angel. I can usually tell on sight, what they are. And now I know, what an angel feels like. Not like those actually, who looked like it." Johnny giggled still, but it soon died down. His eyes rested on Pesh, as he nervously twiddled his thumps in front of his belly, while a tensed silence ensued, before Pesh groaned. "What do you wanna know?"

Johnny clapped his hands, gleefully gesturing up and down the angel and towards the sky. "Everything."

Pesh snorted. "Well, that certainly will have to wait, pal. Just know, those hollow creatures are still entirely different from me, even if they are of the same race. Like you said, hollow creatures, only meant for one purpose." He mimicked Johnny's whole gestures and expression down to a T, which amused the siren even more. Doesn't know how to human, but certainly was getting there trying.

Johnny sobered up for a moment and extended his hand. "I can already tell. But, it's a deal, then. Once we have the time, we sit down, have a B52, or whatever it is you drink, and you tell me all you know." They shook on it, but seeing Pesh's questioning, almost helpless look towards the other two, Nero assumed he didn't remotely understand, what he was getting himself into.

"He's gonna be drunk by the third one."

"What's a B52 anyway?" Pesh sounded happily confused, which looked like a serious touch of naivety to Vergil, that definitely needed some helpful clarification. "It's a mixed drink of alcohol and coffee, which you should avoid." He really had no idea, how an angel reacted to alcohol. Danzig was doing fine, but he only stuck to sip his cognac. Vergil tried to remember, if he had seen Danzig drunk ever, slightly tipsy yes, but nothing more.

"Oh, Verge. I would never make him drunk. On purpose."

On purpose, yeah right.

Vergil could only sneer at the siren. The biggest hangover he ever had was from trying to drink with Johnny. Dante could hold his liquor just as much, but Vergil couldn't. This had been the hard way to find out and a night, he certainly never wanted to remember. Since his return, Vergil hadn't thought about it and even with the events happening at that time, in his hazy mind it seemed, that those had been happier times. Even if only for a while.

"Well, we shook on it, so I can't back out." Pesh shrugged at them. How bad could it be? And secretly he wished, he could do that. Sit down with this intriguing man and forget all his worries and talk for days and nights, for the siren looked like he had seen a lot of things. But right now, it was all just speculation and he thought, the opportunity would never come either way.

Nero tapped his foot and viewed them for a moment with a weight, that settled on his sinking shoulders. He too suddenly wished for a peaceful time, where they all could just sit and enjoy themselves. Maybe it was seeing the place utterly destroyed, maybe it was seeing Johnny sad, which never happened before, or it was the car crash and the fight that still lingered in the back of his head, but it all affected him just the same. Their was change everywhere. And for the worse. People in danger, people dying again. He might have even known some of them.

He glanced at Vergil, who also had a melancholic look on his face. The fun was over.

"Let's go home. Dante might be back. Let's see what they where up to." Nero requested and the tremor from earlier did come to mind again. Vergil nodded wordlessly and they bid their farewell to Johnny for the time being. The siren watched them dash away and huffed, while rubbing his tired face. There was sad work to do, before joining the hunters, which he couldn't wait for. Something smelled very fishy since the coming of the riders, and it wasn't him. He chuckled mildly at his own joke. To contrary belief, he was a patient man and he would get his answers sooner or later.

Halfway back, Vergil came to a halt, gesturing for the other two follow him. They exchanged a bemused look as to what might have caught Vergil's attention and change in direction. They followed nonetheless, keeping a distance to see where he would veer to and he trusted them to come after him.

Vergil had caught traces of Dante's aura and picked up the trail. He had vanished from his mind and senses for quite some time and the slight tremor did not feel right, even when Pesh let him know, it had something to do to where Danzig had led them. Presumably so far beneath, Vergil lost his contact with his brother, and he didn't let anyone know, but that was unsettling him to the very core. Vergil had to admit, even if the riders and Danzig where with him, he was anxious to feel him again.

The relief flooded him as they saw the lanky figure of Danzig, the white head on broad shoulders from Dante and both the riders bigger shadows behind them, emerge from the tree line that marked the beginning of the wooded old park.

"Long time, no see." Dante greeted them with his usual wry smile. Vergil's narrowed eyes scanned his brother for any sign of a ruffle and was pleased when everything was in order. His coat was dusty, but that was a given.

Pesh gathered the most stares and was kind of shyly avoiding eye contact with everyone. Yes, he was the odd one out and yes, he knew. And yes, he wasn't supposed to be out. And no, everything was fine.

When the swift interrogation by his brother was finished and both parties had declared their unscathed state, Pesh received a ruffle to his golden locks by Dante. He wanted to object, being petted like a damn dog, yet strange enough, the sentiment felt nicer, than he wanted to admit. How Dante dared to do that was beyond him, but seeing Nero receive the same treatment, Pesh blamed it on his looks, not far off where Nero might was in human years. Maybe that was the only reason. And quite honestly, Pesh really didn't mind, the further he thought about it. It seemed like an act of endearment. Nero complained though, but Pesh only smiled to himself

On the way back home, they briefed each other and it was as Pesh had thought. Nero was in shock, Vergil not so much, or rather masking his astonishment like always. The look he shared with his brother though, spoke volumes. What had they themselves gotten into? An actual gate to Heaven right beneath their feet. Under the remains of Temen-ni-gru no less.

And here, both their minds veered off, calculating, thinking. Was it why the tower didn't entirely disappear, like a ragged tooth still standing high above the cityscape?

Was it connected? Was there ever a possibility, why Arkham had summoned it there? Did he do it on purpose? Was he drawn to the spot without knowing? Was Vergil? He thought about it. He tried to remember bits and pieces, for the years in hell had made his mind fuzzy and he forgot things he should know and knew things he shouldn't. His short time with Arkham never alluded to him knowing anything about and just as Danzig had told them, he was the only one around to know this. Along his brethren. And probably Lucifer. Vergil felt like prodding his brain for clues was sticking forks blindly into a haystack, hoping to get a squeal out of a poked culprit. No, Arkham was a deluded, half transformed maniac, his demon ritual making a damn mess of his mind, which he tried to hide behind sophisticated manners. Vergil shivered involuntarily at the thought of hearing his nonsensical ramblings, probably self indulgent over his own voice, ever again. He remembered, how good it had felt to stab him and twist that blade in his guts, making him eat his words. Incomplete, his ass. He was the one still standing, not some conjured,slapped together demonic mess, but a true demon blood. But their pride had been their very own downfall for each of them.

Vergil swallowed the bitter rancor, threatening to cloud his foggy mind altogether, making it hard to stay focused all the same. One last glance at Danzig and Dante, then he gazed up ahead, senses keen on his surroundings, for everyone else was up in chatter, he didn't feel much need to participate in, but also not wanting to hang himself up yet again in dark thoughts. Everything will come together in the end. He just had to keep a clear sight and watch from the backseat until things fell into place.

Dante, being at point alongside Danzig and Pesh, showed much remorse for not being able to spare Johnny from the events, but welcomed his help all the more. Love Planet attacked and, with all angels defeated, still no clue how they came here.

They still mulled things over, having Death at the center of it, who told them of a way, he himself had once used, when he had been on his journey to clear War's name. It was out of question for the hybrids to visit one of the many outposts of the White Cities Lostlight and the heavenly plains, but Danzig volunteered, though Death reminded him of the still unsolved issue with his vault of weapons, he wanted within this realm to guard it. Also, he doubted, Danzig setting foot into the divine realm would not go unnoticed either, hard to unravel magic shield or not. They would know an angel, when they saw one.

Vergil listened closely again, for the issue of the vault he had discussed with the riders before, many ideas and thoughts had begun swirling in his head. He once had given Danzig a task and had not yet gotten to ask, if it was finished. But knowing, the shop would be soon very cramped, he was now ready to see it through and let Dante know. Let them all know, for that matter.

He had poured many a resource into it, since he came back and it was kind of a very personal matter to see it in all it's former glory. Even if it was inherently linked with many a memory and the last one too painful still to bear - he wanted it nonetheless. A proper family heirloom. A sanctuary. So, why not make it a sanctuary for all of them?

It would get them out of harms way. It would be safe to stay there and it certainly held the space for that damn abomination vault of Death and have it secured under the very same roof. He didn't know, how Dante would take it, if he would take it at all and in a nutshell, Vergil couldn't predict, how Dante would react.

Well, Vergil had good reasons to eventually point out and let them see the advantages. The riders wouldn't care, they would probably be thankful for more room. The attic wasn't sufficient enough for all of them. Dante's room was a mess, Nero's room was empty, safe for one bed. The kitchen would never be able to hold this many all at once, now counting Johnny along the still short line of defenders.

It was the most logical thing to do.

Pesh stopped dead in his tracks, his ever present, but dim glow flaring like a wildfire. Danzig felt it before Pesh illuminated the different faces of their merry band of huddled together specimen. "What's going on?" Nero piped up irritated at the sudden light, betraying their position from way too far away. Little did he know, it didn't matter anymore.

"We've been surrounded." Pesh stated, head whipping to every direction, pinpointing each opponent under the heavy clouds.

Just like Johnny said before, the flock came in swift and hard.

Yamato sang instantly, Rebellion chopped the head clean off the first attacker, the following two were cut clean in half by Vergil's invisible wind blades.

Pesh launched forward, Danzig heaved a heavy sigh, plucking the words from his brain, chocked full like a room with stacked papers. He shuffled through them, weaving his threads around the group, protecting them from the fires being hurled from a distance.

"Don't tread out of it," he yelled after an infuriated Pesh, who didn't even pretend to listen, but instead crashed right into the flock, scattering them wide and making it easier for Nero to single them out and pluck them from above, smashing them at War's, Death's and Dante's feet to finish them off one by one.

The level of prowess and working together almost effortlessly did stall the flock, trying to huddle together, forming an all out attack on the being farthest away from the group.

Danzig stared wide eyed, the flurry of wings surrounding his younger brother in no time.

"What's the idiot doing?" Nero revved his blade, ready to run for it, but Dante stopped him. "Whatever you do, don't step out of Danzig's spell."

There were to many foes to get through to him just yet, Vergil and Dante braced themselves, Nero revved his sword up once more, feeling the heat under his touch. "Come, get some." he waved his bringer at them.

Pesh did feel the pain, as his enemies plucked at his form, bit by bit, piece by piece. It hurt and his wrath rose with it. He burst in flames, a circle of fire surrounding him, burning through his opponents' bodies, yet he felt his powers fluctuating, dwindling with each stab from their enchanted blades.

His fury countered his rational actions, all he did was throw punches blindly, trying to connect them wherever. His hands were on fire, literally, grabbing their wings, tearing them apart like paper stacks, feathers hurled around like a hurricane, sticking with their blood to his form.

He could hear his brother yell for him, but didn't care. They would have to annihilated, violating everything he stood for. The carnage they inflicted. Before his eyes flashed the image of all those dead bodies at the club.

He grabbed the head of one of his enemies. "What are you doing?!" His first punch dented the helmet and nose guard. "Why?!" He yelled and delivered another punch, the helmet cracked from the nose guard to split in the middle.

The sound was sickening, like squishing juice out of an orange, as Pesh grabbed the top of the head. The soldier angel looked at him with wide eyes and laughed. A hollow laugh, that held no emotion to feel, but instead mocked him openly.

Pesh stared directly into those white, pupil-less eyes, devoid of anything, a void inside their heads, but he could tell, somewhere in there was something left. Something was watching through the lifeless eyes of this soldier.

Pesh thought he'd go crazy, a flurry of emotion cursing through him like the bed of a small river trying to contain the ice-cold flood, swapping over the edges, covering the lands and ripping anything away to tear it with the current. A bubbling mass of rage and dire need to find reason, to hear the justification for these gruesome actions.

"Why kill the humans?" He crushed the skull with his bare hand, magnesium flash like light shot through the eyes of the dead one. Pesh hurled it to the ground, before landing on top of the dead body, squashing it beneath his bare feet, feel the warm blood and guts gushing between his toes.

Two more came for him, one he simply flung one to the side, swatting the body away like a puny fly, crashing it into the nearest building. The other one he held by it's throat, crushing it's windpipe until it gurgled. Pesh's eyes smoldered at him, trying to see past the masquerade and the eyes were just the same white nothings like the other one before. He pulled his elbow back, flexed and crashed the angel head forward into the pavement, literally forming a hole to fit the head in. Pesh breathed heavy through his nostrils, he was a burning with rage, the flames scorched the enemy angel, charring his skin and incinerating his hair, his helmet had broken into numerous pieces. The golden bits melted under Pesh's eyes, leaving glittering pools around them.

"This is not what we stand for! Not what I stand for," he shouted at his victim's dimming eyes. The life, or whatever magic kept it alive, left at an alarming speed. His crashed bones too much to take, and the wrath of an angel, older than the human world, burned it's own life away. Scorching his shell, melting it's body under the grasp. Pesh let him go, pushing him down by the throat before he stood up, kicking the dead body three times and crying his heart out.

All the pain he had felt, coming from the siren, seeping through and painting his soul red, their must be some higher force to rely on to explain this madness. Pesh called it madness. But their must be reason buried somewhere, where he couldn't see it.

He had been trapped for so long. All the loneliness and pain gushed out of him, delivering harsh kicks to the ragged doll until it didn't resemble any form, except for the soiled and bloodied wings sticking out at weird angles from beneath.

"I will not tolerate this," he whispered, after he had beaten his anger right out of his own system, by venting on a lifeless form. The small amount of rage he couldn't still contain formed angry tears in his eyes, leaving smudgy trails along his dirty face. His hair was that of a scarecrow, sticking out, the locks drenched in blood, glowing obscenely orange in his own light.

He stared down at the mangled body he mistreated on full intent, breathing heavily and clutching his hands to his chest, trying to fight the angry tears way. His heart just couldn't comprehend anything.

Disbelief all plastered over his features as he realized how wildly he had reacted, so out of character, he was shocked into a state of catatonia. Could he be blamed though? He didn't know. His mind was a mess to himself. One thing was clear though, he didn't endure ages of banishment and deprivation of freedom to see this. How did it come to this?

A loud cry jolted his body awake, his head swiveled around, staring into the faces of another heard, that had gained distance and came for him on swift wings. Pesh wished,he could have his own back. But they had been obliterated just like his true body.

The fight was far from over and he did burn his strength away like a dumb child. Pesh gritted his teeth at his own stupidity. He still had a lot to learn about this form of his. He felt drained and heavy already, as he launched himself into the air, meeting the spear of the flock head on. Swords clanged and he found himself in a body lock, thrashing madly to kick their hands and swords away, grunting and heaving at the sturdy hold to his chest.

He watched in shock as one of them lifted the blade to cut through him, with Pesh Pesh barely able to deflect the blow, he didn't bleed as it cut through his thigh, or at least it's what they thought, but light was gushing from it, briefly blinding anything close by.

Pesh roared in agony. It was a sight as beautiful as disturbing for Dante and Vergil to witness from up close, feeling what Pesh did, and it hit them both with much force, twisting their guts and making them go blind with rage, just like Pesh himself had. He bled blazing light and it stunned their foes for a precious moment – all, the twins needed.

Dante and Vergil locked gazes, the connection enhanced with each other, feeling each others heart beat in their constricting chest.

Dante triggered instantly, Vergil followed only apart by a mere second. Dante threw Rebellion, impaling three angels at once, Vergil drew his blade, upward and downward, signing his attack with a cross, that cut through the air with it's singing noise. Pesh heard it next to his ear, his senses heightened, and jerked his head back just in time.

He was free to move, the last blade, trying to pierce his chest melted before his eyes and left a clear sight on the blue and red devil, so similar, yet so different.

The ice cold vision of Vergil freezing him to the core, while Dante's aura warmed him just the same. Like moving your cracking cold knuckles with a rejuvenating campfire. Pesh punched the last one remaining to the face, hearing the armor crack under his fingers. It fell like a lump and hit the ground, splattering it's insides all over the ground before vanishing in a whiff of white smoke.

The flock was diminishing, but the riders and Nero still had their hands full. Nero revved Red Queen and she roared like a wounded beast. The engine inside was close to overheating, as Nero set the angels aflame, trying to cut through them.

Death scythes were quick and deadly, wings, bones, metal. Nothing withstood the dark magic and infused sharp blades. War swung his sword around like a maniac, slower than Death, but were it hit it not only cut but squashed it's enemies easily. Streaks of blood across his face, he laughed at Death, who replied with a grunt. They both felt magnificent in the heat of battle, exactly where they belonged. And the creatures, that threw themselves so willingly at them didn't put up much of a challenge. War held his position steady, with Death circling around him, protecting his back, they were used to this, fighting alongside each other in a trained move set, ready to strike, when the other didn't.

"Get back here." Dante's voice sounded gravely, hollowed, lie speaking through a dark tunnel. Pesh held his hands to his ears, the demonic voice vibrating in his ear drum, made him dizzy.

Damn, he never remembered the sound of a demon talking to be this painful. It was like screeching on metal and shrill, layered whistles, and dark, roaring waves too loud and drowing out any other noise.

He prayed for them to revert to their initial state and shut up the voice, that pierced his soul like swords of his enemies, which laid bare in this form for everyone to see. The only thing, that had dulled the harsh sounds was Devon and her body, a prison as much as a safeguard.

Pesh's eyes rolled into the back of his head, but before he could crash to the ground and hit his head, Dante caught him effortlessly. The burn hit him unprepared, and his trigger form faded like a flickering flame, until he stoked it himself by reverting back.

His human skin didn't feel the pain, but the sensation was still pricking him, like stitches of numerous, tiny needles. He should have thought about that. But he gritted his teeth and gathered the light form of Pesh in his massive arms.

He relied on Vergil for now, and naturally his twin didn't disappoint, controlled, forceful strikes cleared their path. He vanished in a blue flickered from their staggering opponents sight only to appear a blink later in their backs, to cut swift and hard, or pierce their chest, swishing Yamato upward to cut them in half. Effortless.

A hurricane of sharp blades and the last three separating them from the rest of the group, Vergil patted his arm and sided with the riders, leaving Dante next to Danzig. Pesh stirred immediately, after Dante laid him down, He lifted his upper body and swished the hair that fallen over his eyes and sticking to his forehead, out of the way.

"Breathe for a moment. We'll take care of the rest." Dante had eyes glued to Nero, who's sword seemed to melt hilt downwards, the glow didn't falter nor fade through his attacks. He threw it to the ground in angry fit. The Red Queen didn't do good against them, apparently. Whatever magic had resided within the sword was diminishing further with each cut. The engine was nothing but a sad blubber.

If Nero wanted to fight properly, Dante knew, he definitely needed a sword fit for him. Dante involuntarily touched Rebellion, humming in unison with his inner devil. Nero would need a sword like this. A sword fit for a true devil, trigger or not. Nero still was a damn strong hybrid and every normal manufactured weapong was cut out for him and his harsh sword fighting style.

"I only need a minute." Pesh huffed, rubbing both his cheeks and jaw with his hands, willing some warmth to return from his unplanned faint. He squared his jaw, angry at himself.

"You were reckless," Danzig snarled, without sparing him a glance. He was fuming on his inside, but able to control his body and mouth, only sparing Pesh's exhausted form a quick glance.

Dante left Danzig to reprimand his younger sibling in peace and all due diligence he needed, and to additionally focus on his spell and. With one last assuring glance from Danzig, he dashed to where the fight still lasted.

Nero groaned at Red Queen, the sword giving up on him as it mattered the most. He couldn't even touch it any longer, it was hot like an iron tstraight from a melting oven.

Damn that thing, nothing but a relic of the Order.

He flung it aside and gave it a thorough kick on it's way. Instead he zeroed in on his anger, directing it to fuel his bringer, which flared up, a vibrant beacon to gather around in this rainy night. Foes and froends alike where circling him, making himthe center, with a cirlce of defenders around him against the heavenly onlsaught of loud flapping wings and enchanted blades and hollow eyes under thick armour.

Nero made fast work - grabbing his opponents and smashing them head first to the ground. It did make him feel somuch better. "Fucking! Feathered! Pissflaps!" Every word was followed by a smash, until the corpse didn't resemble anything, than a meaty mush in battered armor and disjointed wings, drenched in it's own blood.

"He's an angry one." Death chuckled, but was grateful, for the kid did make it easier to dispose of the enemies at a good pace. "Cursing like a dead sailor."

"Let him, he's doing good," War said to his brother, before turning his gleaming eyes to Nero. "Keep it up."

Nero, fueled by the praise of the huge Horseman, flexed his bringer with a cocky grin. "At your service." The next one came down, crashing into the ground, only to be impaled by Vergil and nailed to the ground by Dante, finally joining them in the main battle afer their short retrieval detour. "Everything in order?" Dante winked at them, quickly taking up a fair spot amidst their ranks with Vergil by his side.

"Peachy," Nero replied with a side glance at Red Queen, which Dante noticed with a shrug. "Don't worry. We'll get back in shape. Or get you soemthign better."

"I'm not worried. Just pissed. She can rot for all I care." Before they could deepen the matter of a fitting weapon for Nero, the last wave came crashing in, but with the twins it was managable. Nero was about to ask Dante, what he real had meant with a new sword, but yet agin got interrupted for Death snarled loudly. "There," he pointed one of his scythe upwards. "Quick. It'll escape." His eyes had scanned the sky and

Dante readied Rebellion to send it after the last retreating angel, high in the sky, but Death shoved his sword out of the way. "Nero? Bringer."

The younger hunter gave Death a puzzled look. "Give me a boost." Death clarified in his charmingly annoyed voice.

No way. "You serious?" He wouldn't hurl Death to his death..would he? The rider coudln't die, right? Or break his bones?

"Quick." Death lef thim no time for further quarrels. Inwards and outwards.

Nero's bringer sang, conjured to hover over the ground, ready for the pale rider to jump in it's palm. And as he did, he gave Nero a curt nod.

Nero's pulled a face between disbelief and dread, not believing he was about to do this. He practically threw the rider the direction of the escaping enemy, groaning loudly. Death roared, as he was hurled upwards, like a rocket. "Don't forget to catch me."

"Well, that's one way to do it." Dante remarked snidely, yet he did seem amused, twirling Rebellion once before putting it back onto his back.

Nero's eyes bulged out of their sockets. "He's mad." But his control over his demon arm was trained, his mark dead on, Death shot upwards and the last enemy didn't even know what hit him as Death grabbed his wings, ripping at them until they came off. The scream reached the group on the ground a second later.

"Wait. Did he say 'catch me'?" Nero stared up, not daring to loose sight of the rider, who he knew would be beyond mad, if he'd let him fall. He'd survive, but it would still hurt, he ventured with a nervous twitch in his guts.

The corpse rotated in a dizzy spin as Death let it go, eyes glued onto Nero, readying himself for the impact of the arm.

Nero reached out, waiting until the rider was in reach and plucked him out of the sky, like he did with the angels before. He did need all of his left ability to focus on retreating his bringer and not let it pop like a bubble, cursing inwardly.

Death escaped a breathless 'oof', but other than that, Nero was surprisingly gentle. Death felt like a cube of ice in his ghostly grasp. He moved as delicately as he could, and Death was silent until he was put back with both heavy boots on the ground. It did work and no one got hurt or squashed in the process.

Nero wiped his nose, after his bringer vanished around Death, who examined himself only to look satisfied, he didn't expect nothing less, but didn't say that out loud.

Dante patted Nero's back. "Huh, I never thought of that. Keep that move in mind."

"What did you expect? I can control it just fine, you know." Nero replied slightly annoyed, boosting his own confidence with saying that. "Never said anything else. I know you can." Dante pursed his lips and held his hands up in a pacifying motion, thinking the kid really needed to chill, sometimes.

"By the way, what's wrong with him?" Nero steered the conversation way from himself, feeling exposed under Dante's eyes, that had watched him like a hawk, even if he thought he didn't give it away. Nero knew he had been nervous, just like himself. Yet Death had assumed he could do it and he did, which was feeling damn good. Death had showed, he trusted him. And in Nero's book, it counted, thrice. Death believed he could do it, or just assumed it to be a given, and Nero did succeed.

Dante watched Pesh, still on the ground, solding his knees and restinghis forehead on his arms. Poor thing. "I don't know."

They gathered around Danzig and his brother, with Nero bowing down to him, but the opressing scent made him reconsider. He quickly backed up to take a spot in between the twins. "Is he fine? What about Devon?"

Pesh opened his weary eyes at hearing Nero talk. "She's okay. I'm okay."

"You should switch." Nero pressed on, wanting to have confiramtion she really was.

"I can't. She's asleep. I don't want to disturb her."

Nero feared, it might have been a polite excuse for she's passed out because he overdid it, again. "But she's fine? Not like the last time, right?"

Pesh huffed, his eyes burning into Nero's for such apparent distrust. The nerve of the guy. "I just said so." He closed his eyes again, not wanting to see the skepticism on the younger one's face any longer. If anyone was caring for her, it was himself or so he believed. But, it was a lie. He knew better than that, seeing it everyone's eyes and it hurt. Yet, his heart swelled equally. His host had indeed found a good group of earnest people.

"Well, he is gonna be fine. And he is right. The woman is alright, too." Danzig intervened, to give his brother some credit. Pesh rolled his head around. "Thank you." It didn't sound satisfied though. And he knew why.

"But, that doesn't mean it was right for you to charge face first. That was dangerous."

Pesh sighed, waving him off lazily. "Won't happen again."

"Does it hurt?" Danzig looked down, Pesh's form of light barely a gentle buzz, due to him calming down and feeling remorse. "What do you think?" Pesh did a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, not feeling up to discuss it further. Of course it did.

"Please, for my sake. Start to make sense." Dante crossed his arms over his chest while swaying back and forth on his heels impatiently.

Pesh rejected him by staying silent and inspected his hands instead. But Danzig spoke, explaining Pesh's state for everyone to hear, while the younger angel tried to pan it out, grinding his teeth.

"It's quite simple actually. Pesh is a soul, that oyu know. A special one, yes. But still a soul. When they attacked him, they attacked his very soul."

Dante went slack jawed, eyeing Pesh, then raising a brow at Danzig. No one spoke.

"He resides inside our little friend here. His soul is basically protected inside her, just like yours." He motioned at Dante's heart, making him grab the spot involuntarily, grazing his nails over his coat.

"And when he assumes this form it's him, expanding his energy. His soul is growing and taking form. An angels soul is very dense. It can grow and enlarge, be formed and molded. Whenever he comes out, as you put it, it's his soul shaping around the body and protecting her. So, they cut his very soul, when he engaged them. Cutting through it, away from it, piece by piece."

The silence was increasing.

Nero's jaw went slack, jsut as Dante's before him. That didn't sound like anything remotely safe to do on purpose. It sounded like something extremely stupid to do, baring your soul to whoever was near, literally. Especially to an enemy, with a sword, powerful enough to do some serious damage.

Danzig disregarded the stunned faces of his two hunters. As for the riders, they already knew, they saw it the moment they met Pesh and his pure energy, taking the shape of his former self.

Dante's face went blank, the further the explaining went from his mentor, chewing on his lip in deep thoughts. Pesh willingly let his soul be damaged. He went down on one knee in front of Pesh, who refused eye contact. "It can heal."

Danzig huffed. "It can, but it takes time. It's far more resilient than the human one. But still, I won't allow it. You're too precious to go out like that. From here on, I forbid it."

"You're no marshal anymore." Pesh replied nonchalant. He couldn't even remember the times, when they stood side by side on the silver peak of the dome in the middle of the white city, where his brother indeed had been marshal of the guard. And Pesh had always refused to join his ranks. His fiery and free spirit had never been cut out for it. He was seen as an instigator. And hadn't they been right about it.

"But I am still your brother."

Vergil and Dante exchanged a look, that no one could estimate, something between remorse and shame, while Death and his brother War nodded at each other, having already reached that kind of understanding after long struggles for each other. They all felt the deep warmth gushing out from those words and reaching into everyone's being, so deep inside, where things were normally buried, to never see the light of day again.

The silence, that followed was heavy, coating the scene with a misty layer of sadness. Suddenly no one felt like talking anymore. Nero just wanted to go home. And it hit him right in the already wrenching guts. Home. He looked over to Dante and Vergil, both with, for once completely alike faces, both muddled in thoughts.

Brothers, huh. He shook his head to himself. He had no siblings, but if he ever knew how that felt, it was like this. The twins and how they treated him. Sometimes suffocating him with the need to protect and control his every decision. And why? With this epiphany evident, nagging at his brain and seeping into his heart he knew: they felt closest to him like no one ever. Might be shared blood at first, but it was so much more, something that couldn't be put in words nor ever be grasped with solid hands. The love of a brother was a strong thing, that didn't bent to nothing. Not to stupid things they did, not to a ill judged decision, or a hidden truth that surfaced, nor a crime. It stood proud and over everything. Though neither of them had said it, put it in words, their actions spoke more clearly to Nero now. And he would be a fool to make himself believe he didn't care. He did. That's why he had hidden his inability to trigger. And that's why he listened to Dante earlier, and stayed in the protective circle. He didn't want to jeopardize their relationship and his feeling of belonging somewhere. With every job and every demon lurking, he was afraid they wouldn't return. And that's why he hated to be weak. He wanted to protect them as much as they wanted to protect him.

Nero shifted his weight from one leg to another, his heart pounding with the heavy thoughts, he sifted through. He shook his head as to get rid of them. "Let's go home. I'm tired of the rain." And the gloomy feeling, but that, he kept for himself.

No one objected. Danzig heaved Pesh to his feet, looking closely to see any signs of imminent exhaustion, but it appeared his eyes were clear and he was ready. And he didn't make a fuzz over his younger brother. He knew, Pesh had felt it, what Danzig had conveyed. Pesh looked just sad, as he stood up, but walked firmly beside him. "I'm sorry."

Danzig's head turned, a soft smile playing on his lips, exaggerating the wrinkles on his ancient face, which Pesh would still need to get used to, seeing it was his preferred look these days, hiding his divinity carefully.

And Danzig knew, it was hard for Pesh, waking up in a world he did no longer recognize. And he fared well under the shock he had been through. He deserved credit and a gentle hand to steer him and help him adjust in time. "It's alright."

The group made a swift way back to the shop, happy to leave the cursed weather outside for today. But matters still needed attention, so after everyone with the need to change into something dry had done so, they got comfy in the living space, after having laid out a plan to determine their route and future actions and preparations.

Everyone felt the strain and rested as best as they could for the short duration of time, they'd been given.

But Danzig soon insisted, for Devon's sake, Pesh should swap with her and also rest. He saw it was tiring for Pesh all the same to keep his form stable any longer. They were together all the time from now on, and Pesh didn't have to force it. They could see and talk whenever they wanted too. And Pesh could hear his brothers voice clearly, even as he dissolved and went back into Devon's head. It was a comfort he had ached for so long. He could hear and see. And with that he also fell into a state of sleep, but one he'd finally wake up from, always and deliberately.

Danzig had watched over Devon for a while, trying figure out if anything was out of order, but Pesh's fight didn't leave any mark or trace on her, which was comforting. And it did confirm, that Pesh had remained in control in the fight, not letting harm get to her but taking it all in her stead. His brother had always held more love the human race than his own. Who would have thought, he'd be proved right in such a form?

Vergil waved Danzig over, as he came back from upstairs, locking eyes with him as he leaned in to ask the question of questions for him, that had been burning in his insides. "Is it ready? Did you succeed or was your departure a hindrance – don't give me that look, I do know it was necessary. But still..."

Danzig instantly knew, what Vergil was referring too, for the same thing had crossed his busy mind, since he learned of the random attacks. A sly smile on his face, he conspiratorially whispered back at the blue twin: "It was, before I so hastily departed. My apologies, Vergil. But it's ready whenever you see it fit to go."

"I say, we go now and take them all with us. It would be the perfect headquarters for us. Not to mention the extensive library and storage space. Bedrooms for each of them. We'd be able to haul us in for decades, if necessary."

Danzig nodded at Vergil, who nervously, and very uncanny for the blue twin, rubbed his hands. "Dante will object, I fear though."

Danzig seated himself on the armrest, seeing how Vergil had his hands on his lap, fingers itchy at the thought of having to convince Dante to leave Devil May Cry for the time being. The older man nudged Vergil playfully in the arm, to make him stop with the antics unbecoming of him. "He will see reason. As much as he might try to not want to. Have some faith in him, my boy."

Vergil only grunted. "If you say so. But not tonight. Let's wait til everyone has rested. I think votes will be easier to get in the morning, rather than when everyone's tired already."

And cue Dante to let out a loud snore, having fallen asleep on the couch next to Nero, who once more switched channels, but too looked tired with his droopy eyes. They were sure he would follow Dante soon.

"You get my point." Vergil gestured at Dante's sunken form with a sneer. Danzig laughed. "Let him rest. I agree."

Everyone had already determined, the hybrid needed a good rest after all. He had been awake for days and it just occurred to them, the moment they settled on forming a patrol to sweep the city and watch out, so an attack, like the one at Love Planet, didn't occur twice. And the riders had volunteered on the spot, seeing Dante's reddened eyes and hearty yawns, he couldn't hide any longer.

And they all agreed, the stretch for him wasn't even necessary. They were many and would do shifts. Lady and Trish were informed immediately about the ongoing events and stepped up to take the next shift. Nero and Vergil would go after that, letting Dante get at least one day and a half to rest. And also, to have constantly someone at home to keep Devon company, who had been put to bed and also get a full night of sleep, or more, in Nero's room. Pesh had retreated also, after having shared a small and private conversation on the bed with Danzig. They both still couldn't believe their sheer luck. Or fate. But angels didn't believe in fate. At least not for themselves for it was a tricky thing and only granted to humans.

---

Devon woke with a start, gasping for air as if she'd just came back from a dark murky depth, a dive too long for her staggering lungs to hold in air.

In the dim light of a rising sun seeping through dark curtains, her hands grabbed the duvet, that she was laying under.

A bed.

Devon sat up, wiping over her face, trying to piece the moments back together to form a coherent string of what had happened. She did come up only with the scene outside, where Pesh swapped with her.

After that it went hazy. But she heard echoes of a fight, sounds that had reached her in her slumber, but didn't know if had been a bad dream or reality.

And that very reality hit her soon, when her fingers on her face let her remember the hole, that had been left not many days ago.

Devon huffed and fell back into the cushions. It all had seemed like a damn dream, or rather nightmare, her brain though slowly redirected her initial feeling. It was ll still very real. But it felt like it had happened ages ago, like something you spied through a molded mirror. Fuzzy. Not yourself, but happen to someone else.

"Yikes..." It was all her dried and shrivel up vocal chords managed, though it came out as nothing but a croaky noise.

In her thoughts, she called for Pesh, but adding to her befuddlement, he stayed silent.

And the silence was worse, than the thought of it all being real. Knowing he'd be there from now on, whenever, had been soothing for her. And if he wasn't there? What had happened?

Devon cleared her throat, coughing a few times until she figured, she might need some water to get her voice going. She stood up onto shaky feet, the heavy sleep proved to have a thorough hold on her, but with every move, every stretch of fingers and toes, every move of getting dressed in fresh clothes, life returned to her body.

Her vision cleared, metaphorical and physically until she was felt safe to wander out of the room and into the bathroom. Not a noise and not a soul around.

Devon pursed her lips, almost running into the door frame of the bathroom door, still missing the depth of vision to a staggering degree. "Dammit..."

Devon gave the frame a good slap, hard enough to make her palm sting. But it did the trick, she felt better and the pain pulled her even more into the here and now. As did her mirror image.

Devon combed her messy hair with her fingers, seeing the gaping hole and the scarred tissue, making it all too real again. Trying not to focus on that too much, she slapped cold water into her face and located her toothbrush, which she had bought together with Nero.

The memories rushed in at that. Dante. Nero. The demon hybrids. The angels. It was all real. Her breath hitched and she swallowed the toothpaste almost whole.

Devon coughed out loudly, as she threatened to choke on that way too minty toothpaste, burning in the back of her throat and down her esophagus. Devon spat it out, still coughing wildly, hitting her chest with her flat palm to make it all come out.

All right, that was enough brushing for the time being, tears welling up in her eye to the strain her lung just endured.

Devon grabbed onto the sink until the coughing fit subsided, mentally screaming for Pesh, who still didn't answer. She splashed some water into her reddened face, washing the tears away and the rest of the toothpaste on her chin.

Locating a towel was easy enough, thankfully. And there was also a huge pile of dirty clothes, which she just noticed now, wiping her face in slow circles as she tiptoed over, as if it was something rude to do, and took a gander. Mud. Dirt. Tears. And blood.

Devon pressed the towel to her mouth, eye wide in shock.

She never thought it would happen, but the first thing that came to mind was not Dante, but Nero.

She hastily hung the towel back, ripping the hanger in the process, struggled to hang it once again, but it didn't work. And after a third time, which her shaky hands didn't make easier at all, she just left it discarded on the floor, feeling the scene. She felt embarrassed about to boot.

But her mind didn't think. It just made her act on the spot. On the fear, that something might have happened. And why Pesh didn't answer. Why the house was so dreadfully silent, when she woke.

With hurried baby steps, not minding the stairs and her impaired vision, she practically stumbled down the stair case, but miraculous managed to land on her own to feet instead of scraped knees.

The living room was also empty, on the bar sign illuminated the room. It was at the crack of dawn still, and the windows didn't point to the east.

Her gaze landed onto the entrance to the kitchen. Yellow light coming out of the open door and painting a light rectangle onto the floor outside, like a portal to safety.

Devon righted herself, as she heard distinctive shatter coming from there, hoping she didn't look as scared as she felt. And moving in closer, she felt stupid for it, to boot.

Dante sat on the table in all his glory and wearing a smile, that melted her fears away in an instant. The other voice, her brain had processed already, yet still hadn't arrived to her anxious expression to convert it, belonged to Nero.

Devon carefully walked inside and Dante's grin immediately faltered and froze. Still too skinny, still too pale. But he fixed that in a mere second, and it went unnoticed by the other two.

"Look, who's up." Nero greeted with waving his spatula at her staggering form, gracing her with a big grin, she felt like she didn't deserve.

it hit her unprepared, and was even more enhanced by the feeling from a minute ago, where she thought, something might have happened.

Bu the stood there, in a worn down pair of blue skinny jeans, perfectly fitted for him and a washed out gray sweater jacket with rolled up sleeves, and a black plain shirt under it.

"Morning, sleepy head. Here sit." Dante offered her his warm chair and seated himself opposite of her. Why he did that and if he was even that thoughtful, she couldn't answer, nor nearly process. She was till too befuddled, that whatever seemingly too real scenario her silly brain had conjured up, didn't even remotely coincide with the picture upon walking in.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Dante commented warily, gesturing at her distraught expression.

Devon didn't even realize her mouth was slightly open, and snapped it shut. "Just trying to come awake."

Nero swaggered over, cup in hand and placed it right in front of her with that intolerable smile. "That might help." Not intolerable per say, but for her half sleepy form it was. Too bright. Too handsome to look at.

When and where and why and how did he get such a good cheerfulness that early in the morning anyway? The last time she checked, he had been broody and reserved.

Nonetheless, Devon accepted, easing herself into the situation, and sniffed the steaming coffee making the roof of her mouth and back of her mouth tighten and the nerves tingle at first sip. Devon pulled a face, making Dante chuckle at her.

She eyed him over the rim, as he sat there with hands behind his head, lounging with seemingly not a care in the world. She remembered the incidents slowly and it was such a stark contrast to what she recalled. Nero trashing the room. Dante looking after him. Vergil and his warning. The riders and the older angel, Pesh's brother. The strain between them, which she could feel, even when no one voiced it out directly.

"You've been sleeping for three days straight." Dante told her out of the blue, and Devon had the feeling that yet again, he somehow could read her like an open book. But it did explain, why she had felt so out of it until now.

Devon gave him an enlightened "Ooh..."

"We thought you could use some rest, so we didn't wake you." Nero clarified the matter further more from his spot at the stove, flipping what looked like pancakes.

Devon's mind screeched to a halt. Pancakes. And that Nero noticed too, seeing her mind literally gallop off into the direction of food. "You hungry?" As if he needed to ask. That was all her look was telling him and he snickered, not needing any further clarification and piled some of the already finished pancakes onto a different plate.

Devon's mind dished out one word, taking up all the space before her inner eye like a damn billboard, blinking like the shop sign outside: cute.

"What happened to first come, first serve?" Dante objected, but not at all serious.

Nero sighed at him, as he came to deliver the plate and offer a fork at her bedazzled form, which he didn't see, because he prepared mentally to give Dante an earful.

"Ladies first, isn't that what you always say?" Nero flared his nostrils, when Dante cocked his brows at him with acting clueless. "But if you insist on being a lady..."

"I don't..."

They thoroughly enjoyed their banter.

"Then take it like a man. And if you didn't notice, I'm finished anyway."

Devon tried to pry the fork from Nero's involuntarily firm hold, until he noticed her fingers prodding at his. "Oh, sorry." He smiled sheepishly, but his expression changed back to firm and unperturbed as he gazed back at Dante.

The older hunter remained silent, but his sly grin and mischievous eyes told Nero everything he need to know. He was just trying to tick him off.

Nero focused back on serving breakfast, handing Dante juice and syrup, the duster for sugar and more silverware. The older man willingly arranged the table from his seated spot, to lazy to stand up. He rattled the carton of juice to get Devon's attention, who sat there waiting politely for Nero. Devon nodded her consent and Dante poured her a full glass, before he pilled the rest into his and Nero's glass equally.

Nero, while gathering fruit and bread, toppings, jam and boiled eggs, noticed her reluctance. "Come on, eat. You don't have to wait." He was mindful to her, but bristled at Dante, who could have prepared the table beforehand, if he hadn't been inclined to just sit there and watch Nero cook.

Yet, his good mood didn't waver at all. And he'd be damned, if he'd let it. It was looking glum enough, so he would do his best to keep up an expedient nice air around the household. And he expected Dante to help him with that.

And Pesh's words rang in his ears all the time. To look out for her. She was his host, his sole means to be with his brother. To have something to hold on to. And Devon didn't deserve to suffer under any of the circumstances, for she stumbled into this mess at random and not by choice.

And if the angel inside her could literally turn his soul inside out and risk the danger willingly, the least they could do was to listen to him and look after her fragile human body.

Nero observed satisfied, how Devon reluctant at first, ate with a dreamy expression on her face. And when he sat down next to Dante, she was one pancake ahead of them, bu the pace Dante started to wold down, he'd be outpacing them both. Nero didn't mind, that what he had cooked for, for the food to be eaten.

Devon went for her second pancake, with Dante and Nero urging her on. But before she took another bite, she twirled the fork around on her plate, the questions slowly resurfacing and burning in her gut.

"Where is everyone? Did something happen?"

Both men exchanged a pointy look, not like being caught off guard, but along the lines of: there you go.

Dante shifted around in his seat, uncomfortably so, but Devon didn't perceive his shuffling as how he was searching for where to begin.

"I saw the bloodied clothes in the bathroom."

Nero let his fork sink and chewed meticulously, before he finally replied. "Oh, those are mine. Nothing serious. Besides...," he wiped his mouth and swallowed, "...a few scratches." As if to prove his point, he showed her his lower arm, twisting and turning for her to see the skin intact and unblemished. He himself hadn't even noticed amidst the fight, that he had a few cuts and bruises. His heeling factor was as good as ever, so it had healed as soon as the battle had been over.

"I don't see anything." Devon looked confused at nothing but pale skin, to which Nero raised his brows. "Exactly."

He grinned at her and Devon couldn't help but smile back. He seemed just fine. And it was soothing to know, his supernatural side wouldn't let anything happen to him. "So, there was a fight...?"

Dante had watched their small exchange patiently and with a dreamy expression,before Devon roused him from his state. "Yes, there was." He put two more pancakes on his plate, drenching them in syrup, before he spoke in between bites. "Well, this time is as good as any. Maybe it is exactly the right time to fill you in."

And their story lasted throughout the whole breakfast, recapping the events from Johnny's call to now.

Dante did most of the talking, with lots of chewing and grinning, and Nero threw in his two cents once in a while, not really feeling up to it to explain every excruciating detail or give away everything he had felt and thought throughout.

Though Devon knew, they did try to keep it on a lighter note, the graveness behind it all couldn't be played down.

Also Pesh was still there, but apparently needed some time to put himself back together after the fight.

"A siren." Devon felt as if they were pulling her leg, but Dante and his sober face, made it real. "Yes. He isn't allowed to sing within the compound, though." He said it like it was a completely self-evident and sane rule to have around one's house.

Devon bit her lip, one second away from asking, what he might do, if they'd let him. And it was only stopped by Nero being awkwardly quiet and avoiding the siren topic altogether, with scratching his neck in a nervous fashion.

"And about Pesh, I didn't know." Devon excused her lack of knowledge, for the angel didn't even let one word slide, he might get hurt. Not even after the car crash.

"How would you? He didn't seem to happy about it either, and it was Danzig who eventually spilled." Dante tried to calm her guilty feeling and douse it from the beginning.

"I wonder why."

"That, you can ask him yourself." Dante didn't see reason in making assumptions and speculate over his state. Maybe it was just a moment of hurt pride and sulking. He wanted to appear stronger and invulnerable, when it clearly wasn't the case. A dumb trait, he could pinpoint easily, like a candle in the dark, having dealt with that kind of idiocy, though kind of endearing, since Nero's arrival.

"He isn't answering me. He was silent the whole time. I don't know, if he's still there. You don't think...?" Devon couldn't bring herself to voice out he fear, he might have left. Or worse, disappeared. But this injured soul thing was disturbing, something she struggled to comprehend. On the other hand, she had never believed it to be this way. This real. Of course, people always talked about having a soul, but for her it was more a figure of speech than actual fact.

"No, I don't think, anything had happened while you slept." Dante once assured her, taking her hand in his two much bigger hands over the table. "Don't worry. He'll show up sooner or later."

"Well, he was hurt. And he also said, it could heal. Maybe he is just healing at the moment. Maybe he too needs sleep." Nero provided his own theory and it wasn't half bad either. Dante and Devon both nodded at him, with Dante speaking: "Might be the case."

"He was furious. And did charge ahead, when it had been better to stay behind."

"Which you did this time. And I'm not getting around to say, that I was pleased."

"Well, with the elephant out of the room, I thought it was the right thing to do. Besides, there were plenty for all of us." He tapped his bringer, meaning the truth about his trigger. Devon didn't catch on, just looked to and fro in confusion, which no one went to clarify.

Dante quickly dissolved it and veered away from that. "The riders were pleased with you, too."

"That, too." Nero chuckled, satisfied with himself for once. And happy, that Dante wasn't ever one to hold a grudge, knowing Nero didn't mean ill by it. Just ashamed, which he also should have known better in retrospect, when dealing with Dante. If he couldn't trust Dante with it, then sure the world was about to end.

"Oh, you're in looove!" Dante teased his protege and his unhealthy awe of the Nephilim whenever they just so much as walked by, though Nero assumed he had been sneaky about it. Well, apparently not. Dante was a perceptive bastard. He shouldn't even wonder, he did eventually notice. But he felt embarrassed still. "I am not in love, you moron." He swatted the L-word away, as if it was a pesky fly.

But Devon quickly came to support him. "But, have you seen them? They are awesome!"

Nero turned towards Devon, with gleaming eyes. "I know, right?"

Dante rolled his eyes, dramatically reaching for his heart. "What about me, hey?"

"Would you please for once share the spotlight?" Nero let out a frustrated groan.

"I do share. Not just that." He winked at Devon, who looked at him abashed, before dropping her gaze.

"Well, at least now Devon knows how you tick and can steer clear of that."

"I do?"

"You better. He's worse. And an attention hog." Nero chuckled behind his hand as Dante's face fell dramatically.

"That says the right person. I can't do anything about anyway. People come on to me. Like moths to the flame." He said with arms wide as if to let them revel in his presence.

"More like flies to the stink." Nero couldn't hide his laughter anymore, bending over. God, he missed a good laugh since it all started.

"And he laughs at his own jokes. Not a very admirable characteristic either." Dante mocked and pointed at Nero, who wiped tears from the corner of his eyes. "You have to admit, you called it."

Dante crossed his arms over his chest, chewing on the inside of his cheek, his most stern look on his face, until Devon believed he'd walk over and smack Nero in the face.

But he didn't hold out long with his act. "I did." He shrugged at them and chuckled to himself.

"Well, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into." His face became slightly solemn as he said it in regards of the way they treated each other, and Devon realized, she actually didn't.

It was still hard t keep track, not getting confused and keep a straight face altogether, while listening and learning of all these incredible, frightening things the last few days. Before it looked sunny and bright, like that day Nero and her went to that huge shopping market just outside the old stone confinements of the city. But, looming in the back f her mind, like the ever present rain clouds over their heads, was that she felt like sinking, struggling still, but the inevitable end would come.

"It's not like I could anywhere. Or he would let me, after he found out your friend is his brother."

"We won't let you go anywhere. But more importantly,..." Dante knelt down I front of her chair, cupping her face firmly in his hands, so she had no where to look but his face,"...remember, I found you and we decided you could stay even before we knew that." Maybe it had been fate, maybe it been the angel pulling Dante in. To him it only counted, that it had felt like the right thing to do. That many things happened and some fell into place, was just added bonus or an obstacle to take. And about those he knew plenty to not get his chaps in a twist, yet. They all had their package to carry, but Dante was sure that joint effort always made it lighter and easier to figure things out.

He made her nod to his words with his big hands, not letting go until it had tiem to sink in. "It doesn't matter. It didn't matter before. It was you, we wanted to help."

Her eye strayed past Dante, and fell onto Nero who slouched in his chair, looking like he paid no attention. But Devon saw the brief flitting of doubt and pity on his face, yet Dante's voice pulled her focus back to him.

"Got it?"

Devon nodded firmly by herself, not needing his hands to do it for her. "Got it."

Dante let go and stood up and settled in his earlier spot, looking at Nero whop tried to hide his yawn behind his hand. "I got the phone, kid. Get some sleep."

And there was nothing more Nero wished for. And he could sleep in his own bed, which made him grateful. That couch was going to murder, if he had to use it another night. The thing was out for his back for sure. He rubbed his eyes, pondering for a moment.

"Hey, about him." He motioned awkwardly at her overall form. Devon inclined her head with a questioning look. Nero popped his lips once, feeling silly. "Uh, he'll be fine. He just needs some rest, you know?"

He was actively trying to cheer her up, at least that was the message Dante got. He refrained from sneering at Nero, who was fidgety. "And, if he pops back up, or whatever tell him, thanks."

What...?

"I know he risked a lot, when he came to help, when we both were attacked. And I didn't know about this whole thing about his soul. You know, what we told you earlier." Nero expression was once again a mix of pity and confusion. He felt sorry for the angel, who was locked and a shadow of his former self and he didn't understand why he bothered so much in the first place.

Devon just looked dumbfounded. She had been the one to plead for Nero's life, begging Pesh to save him, though he was reluctant at first and such a show off later. She possibly couldn't tell him that, could she? The way she had to admit, she was attracted to the white haired hybrid with the demon arm staggered her. She wouldn't give it away. And he certainly seemed like he had much more to chew on, than she knew.

"Well, he was being stupid. Just tell him, to watch out next time." Nero said it with a firmer voice than before, while he fiddled absentmindedly with his fraying pocket rims on his jeans, before his human hands clutched his bringer and circled the wrist. The warmth coming from it somehow soothed him. And Dante read every single sign, Nero was nervous.

Devon didn't notice, just saw he was fidgety, but stacked that info as normal Nero behavior into the shelf in her brain, where she tried to store and record every single info about every person, as best as she could. It was hard enough to remember the events in order by hearsay, so the least she wanted to was to not confuse the individuals associated with them on top of that.

"Next time?" Nero tensed even more, when she repeated his words, he didn't even know he said.

"Well, I'm sure you can't keep him confined forever."

"Which I wouldn't." Devon's voice hardened in response to Nero's choice of words. Confinement was the last thing on her mind. And she hoped Pesh knew this.

"Why did you let him out in the first place?" The proverbial ice was thinning and melting under Nero's slight accusation and they way he practically hurled it at her out of of the blue.

"Because he asked. I didn't know, there would be a fight. And I didn't know, it would have any effect on him either. Just like you said. I believe we both thought him strong. Invincible even." Devon raised her voice by a fraction to match Nero's.

Dante watched the exchange from the sidelines, still trying to find the moment where it suddenly went sour. Nero was talking without thinking and Devon stubbornly held his gaze until he gave in.

Nero rubbed his face and exhaled roughly. "Right." Why was he so anxious? Because he had seen what did happen if he went overboard, to his host? That he burned her life, shortening the fuse everytime he had to come out. He had it rather, Pesh didn't.

"Tell him, he is an idiot, too." Pesh suddenly piped up in her head. He could feel the discomfort Devon felt and it pressured her. Which he didn't like either. The discussion for not for to have on his behalf. And the young hybrid pissed him off, even if he showed some kind of twisted concern. For her, not for the angel. Pesh could live with it, as long as he was being reasonable. And being called stupid was nothing short of rude.

Devon heard Pesh's voice loud and clear as if he was standing next to her, which made her turn her fast to either side to verify if he was there.

Dante and Nero perked up at her. "What's wrong," they barked in unison, senses alerted and high.

Devon looked delighted, enough for of them to swiftly figure out what had happened, though. "It's him." She confirmed their assumption, and they could see how she eased back into the seat. "He's fine."

Nero found that to be his cue to finally clear the table. "Good for him."

Dante eyed Nero amused and stood up, this time helping with his self appointed task.

"He says Hi." Devon forwarded the message to both of them, earning herself a lazy wave by Dante and an affirmative grunt from Nero.

"Where's Danzig?"

And both of them knew, she spoke for Pesh now.

"He's visiting his hideout with the riders. They'll be back, soon." Dante answered nonchalantly while retrieving the plates and cutlery to pass them to Nero, who positioned himself at the dishwasher, to sort the tableware in.

Devon watched them as they worked around the kitchen like a clockwork, well attuned with each other, as they put everything back into place, not bumping or even hindering one another. It was cute to watch both almost equally tall men act so delicate and considerate, leaving enough room to dance around one another effortlessly. It seemed like only a few minutes until the kitchen was back in it's cleaned up state, with Nero tending to the stove, while Dante had a rag to wipe the counters around him.

It was buzzing in Devon's mind, that both of them where the most notorious demon hunters and here they just did like everyone would normally do, keeping their kitchen clean like your everyday, average person.

Inside her, Pesh cajoled, Devon assumed he was thinking something funny, but what came next made her nearly fall off her chair. "You're staring at him." They both knew, who he was talking about.

"I am not." She replied loudly, making both hybrids turn towards her with raised brows. Devon waved her hand. "Don't mind me. Sorry." And she inwardly cursed at Pesh, for making her embarrass herself. Her cheeks were flushed, that much she could tell already. "I can see through your sight." Pesh reminded her slyly and Devon quickly searched for something to latch on, her own hands. She wanted to give herself the finger, so Pesh could see the rude gesture, but reminded herself, it would certainly be lost on Pesh, for he most likely didn't know the meaning behind it.

Dante chuckled, Nero pulled a face, as if eating eating sour grapes. "Well. I'm off to catch some shuteye." He looked at Dante. "Wake me, if anything happens. Or if our shift is on."

"No worries." He grinned obscenely, making Nero worry, until he caught on. "No no no. You don't tell Vergil to wake me. I like my face intact."

"Only if you would sleep in, I guess." Dante tapped his temple as he considered the plea.

"Then be a buddy for once and wake me, before I do that." Nero slapped him playfully on the arm and announced his retreat with it. "Later." He said to no one in particular, but meant Devon, who sat at the table, chewing on her thump, deep in thought and...was her face red?

Nero quickly disregarded it and shoved the thought of anything, that threatened to come to mind away, which included the angel and the conversation they might held at this moment. He was tired and beat. And that damn nagging in his insides didn't go away, either. So he would just ignore it as best as he could. His drowsy state would help to get him over that, hopefully.