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)

17. Into The Unknown

Into the Unknown

---

"So, just walk out on me. I don't care." Dante put his hands on his hip, while he blew a raspberry to no one in particular - for Pesh and Devon, changing into Pesh's form, just had left the building. He told the golden boy to be careful and hoped he had learned his lesson from the fight before. And he had the impression the angel actually did, his face had told him everything would be alright. And for once, Dante had felt the comfort he secretly needed. Pesh was reassuring and it Dante's weighted shoulders had felt a small ounce lighter. Yet, it wasn't too surprising, knowing where the angel came from and who his older brother was. In a way, Pesh reminded him of the old man Danzig and he could easily picture his mentor to once having been like Pesh. But the years that lasted on his mind were something the angel yet had face, to become cranky and somber like Danzig.

Dante sighed long and over dramatically, again, to no one, before his head hung low and lolled from one side to another. He heard his neck crack and winced. Maybe he was indeed becoming old, though he wasn't, not even in human years. Yet, the draining tiredness never ceased to fade.

Dante clicked his tongue, shoving the thoughts violently aside and plopped down in his favorite spot, grabbing the magazine and briefly flicking through the pages. Unsatisfied, he threw it over his shoulder so it made a rustling flip and landed in the trash bin. He then crossed his arms, shifting on his butt to get comfortable, head falling to his right side.

He closed his eyes, focusing on nothing but his heartbeat and not the thoughts and worries raging in his mind. Sleep wouldn't come, nor did he need right now, but some peace and quiet, he always appreciated, before the next disaster would bounce through the door in a flurry.

Little did he know, that this eerily silent tornado of feathers was already on it's way.

---

Be careful, Dante had said. And Pesh intended to be. He wouldn't want to disappoint the already disappointed hybrid even more. The pain etched into his features was more than enough. For Danzig's sake, he would be careful. For Devon's. For his. His story only had begun, so he did not intend to leave early.

Lucifer.

Pesh couldn't get over it. What would Danzig say? Pesh sure had a lot questions regarding him. How in the world did he end up befriending Dante of all people?

Because he is a power addictive bastard, that's why.

Pesh vividly could remember how he always had scurried around Danzig, when they all still had been in the Creator's favor. How he had wanted to incite worry in their hearts. And sow doubt in their minds to carry out the scheme Lucifer had planned. And how Danzig had refused to heed his fear mongering. Pesh had always been wary of the first born and he had been proven right. He never understood what Danzig and Lucifer had found in each other to let such a deep friendship bloom. And even when the Heaven's became aware of Lucifer's schemes, Danzig stepped aside and let the course take it's flow. Lucifer never held it agaisnt him though. As he was cast out, Danzig though had changed. It truly had been the defining moment for him, now that Pesh thought of it. He had started to ask questions. Had started to think, reason and conclude on his own accord, dragging them all into the same unknown depth. Why were the things like they were?

Doubt settled in all their hearts. In his and his siblings' hearts. Yet, neither blamed Lucifer eventually. And then they did what they did. And the curse came down for them as well. Ironic. To an extent they could understand Lucifer, though they condemned his plans altogether still. Heaven was home after all. A home they all had cherished since they came into being. But was that love they felt woven into them? Did they feel it because they had to? Were they puppets on liver strings to do whatever they had been told to? After Lucifer had been gone, it was like a soft murmur and a deep shudder, which had shook them wide awake apparently. Danzig even more than the others.

Pesh had no doubt that the love he had for the fallen one was unmeasured to this day. And all it took was one question to rethink their existence. What Lucifer had sown, they had been reaping, willingly so, being tortured by their newly found mindset of how and why. The question one did not ask. And Pesh suddenly had started to abolish the idea of being there to serve, to know his place, to be what he had been. No more.

And this was his sin. When he had walked down the long white mile to the chambers of the Creator to plea for forgiveness, he hadn't meant a word. He just wanted to be free. And that was his curse, to never be.

Pesh's heart constricted painfully due to all the memories of home. Oh, he yearned to see the White City once more, but he wasn't going to pay any given price for it.

Pesh stopped dead in his tracks and his musings, hearing the roar of a machine down below in the emptied and dark streets. "Found ya."

He hurled himself from the roof tops to land on the thing they called car. It moved fast and this was no easy move to not loose his footing while Nero slammed the breaks. The car howled and screeched under Pesh's balancing feet, coming to a sudden stop that had him stagger multiple times, yet he stayed glued on top. He looked down, surprised to leave such a massive dent on the vehicles roof. "Oh."

"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Nero stumbled out of the car, almost on all fours, scrambling back to his usual height to point his glowing claw at Pesh, who was as equally astonished as him. "Why did you have to do that?" Nero demanded loudly, his voice echoing through the night. Wahtever onlookers they had attracted, surely scurried away at the aggressive voice.

Pesh hopped down, apologizing for not rightly accumulating the effect he would have on the car. Nero didn't have none of it.

"Lookatit!" Nero flailed his arms furiously. First at Pesh. Then at the car. Then back at Pesh, who looked completely clueless and dumbfounded. Nero groaned in frustration, rubbing his face and taking a few deep breaths to calm himself.

Pesh was indeed apologetic for a moment, looking down on his bare feet as he did so in a meek voice. "Sorry."

"Sorry really doesn't cut it, you idiot. Dante will have my head."

"He wanted it anyways." Pesh answered blatantly, not mincing his words for effect. A wry smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Nero groaned again, staring at the car. "I know."

"Besides, this was me. I'll make sure he'll know. There was really no other way to make you stop." Pesh simply shrugged.

Nero's head whipped around. "Plenty, you idiot." Yet, Nero features softened, seeing a remorseful look directed at him. He exhaled roughly, getting rid of the edgy tension in his voice to sound merely defeated. "Why'd you come out looking for me anyways? Dante really send you?" He continued in a much more collected state, knowing Pesh was still a clueless little shit. A little shit nonetheless though, but somehow, Nero wasn't mad at him and his strange soothing presence, which gave Nero a few small pointers, he needed to ease off. He was pissed beyond his usual amount but, admittedly, not at the angel. In fact, Nero didn't even know what he was doing, since he had been out of the door and revving up the engine to race along the streets of the city. He thought it would clear his head, which it - surprise - actually didn't.

"I- We decided it was not a good idea to have you to all alone." Pesh spilled deliberately.

"I just needed to get away from them." And Nero answered truthfully.

Pesh was puzzled, even with witnessing the interactions at the shop, he yet couldn't put the pieces together of the 'hows' and 'whys'. He was missing huge chunks, like apparently everyone, including Nero. And realization brightened his features. This was about the twins. "Why?"

"Because all they do is hide things from me."

Pesh put his finger under his chin, nodding in understanding, but didn't say anything, waiting for Nero to clarify his case. Maybe that's what this was all about that anyway?

"Listen..." Nero began slowly, clearly not knowing what he really was about to say, with Pesh's curios and open features observing his every subtle move and twitch of constraint muscle. "It's really nothing to bother you with. We have so much more bigger problems right now." Nero tried to deflect any inquiry from the silent angel before it would come, trying to divert and dodge it altogether. "I'll come home." He jabbed his thump at the car. "The car should be fine. And that was your mission, to bring me back before I cause trouble of some sort, right?"

Pesh inclined his head, reading Nero perfectly, his change in his pulse and his contradicting behavior to appear as calm as he could. Pesh gave him a weak smile, which told Nero, the angel didn't buy into it one bit.

Nero huffed, flaring his nostrils. "What is it?"

"You look like you're about to explode." Pesh chose his words carefully and delivered them placidly - with that smile still in place, yet his brows furrowed. At first there was no answer and Pesh even went so far as to close the small gap between them, tentatively reaching out and softly putting his hand onto Nero's shoulder.

And this small patronizing gesture was exactly what made Nero explode, the touch burned and it lit that short fuse on fire. Nero erupted without warning.

The way everyone was thinking him to be inferior, the one that needs constant petty reassurance, the boy that needed validation, but over the more, the thing he hated the most: pity. Be it true or false, it didn't matter. Just the reason it was there in those golden eyes, shining brightly with understanding, was enough to tick off all of the above until Nero felt the bitter bile rise at his own reminder of failure.

He pushed the hand off, face contorted between disgust and blatant fury and gave Pesh's arm a shove that needed no explanation: don't touch him ever again.

Nero didn't react well to touches, on the contrary, it made his maddening itch worse. Pesh's hand was way too warm. Too much comfort lay in those eyes. Nero wasn't Johnny, looking for someone to share his pain. He'd rather contain it and deal with it, when no one was looking. He'd fight alone. He had to, if he wanted to ever feel any worth again.

Pesh stood with his arms on his sides, motionless. Like a beautiful statue and so utterly out of place. His expression became neutral, when it should have been angry, or at least offended, about Nero's action. The last straw was long drawn, Nero was already brimming with anger, yet Pesh's unblinking acceptance of such a behavior had Nero yell out his innermost thoughts.

All the frustration, mounting up to a staggeringly high over the small amount of time he spent with Dante finally toppled. The secrets he and his ghost of a sibling had. Nero only learned bit by bit, piece by piece, mostly if he only managed to be in the right place at the right time, catching chunks of conversations behind closed doors, literal and metaphorical. He had to stitch things together, so they would make sense. Every question once asked was easily disregarded under the cloak of not needing to worry him in his critical state. And it pissed him off deeply to the amount of determination, that he too wouldn't need to bother to tell them every ounce of mishap and glimpse of emotion he had. And the trigger problem? Nero scoffed to himself. It was his matter to solve. And if the twins were so adamant about keeping appearances and boundaries, he wanted to make sure to set his own rules and play by those alone. He felt betrayed and that was the worst. It all came down to Fortuna and the way everyone seemed to play him like a fiddle, Dante included. He was given enough information to point him in the direction they all wanted and made him merely function. And Nero's thirsty heart drank it all up without hesitation. He knew, the Order was a lying dump of shitbags through and through, but as long as he had a place and goal – a mission – that would bring him closer to whatever he had been looking to find, he went through with it. Carried out his orders in the most obnoxious way possible - with still delivering the results they had wanted. Either party tolerated the other as necessary evil. But, oh boy, was the picture bigger than he had initially thought. It was a damn puzzle and the last piece had been Dante. Nero had been the odd one out, yet in the center of the incident was his counterfeit. He had laughed out so loud on that fateful day, when he discovered his true nature. When he had found Vergil's sword, he should have known to exist in the first place, he laughed like the idiot he had been made of. Deceit, lies and misconception around every fucking turn. Yeah, it had been a real knee slapper for him. He had been so smug about not believing anything and still he walked into it with eyes wide open and not seeing a damn thing. Now, who was to blame for that? Him, who couldn't fathom the Order to go ahead and sacrifice him and Kyrie for the Savior? A huge chunk of polished marble absorbing the soul of the demon and the virgin to become an angel? Nero walked into it deliberately and he was to blame, when he could have stopped it from the start, if he only had paid more attention. The Order knew exactly what they had been doing, with even luring Dante onto their trail in the first place.

And here he saw an actual angel with genuine empathy, that burned Nero alive and he couldn't have been more wrong in his entire life. The Order – no, Sanctus - mislead and deceived every single one of them. Sparda was no God, and the fucking ritual of fucking ascension sure didn't turn anyone into angels, like even Credo had believed. Goddammit, it hurt Nero so much to recap this story of disgrace in all it's cruel details, yet he couldn't stop. He hurled his story at the immobile Pesh, who stood like a honorific statue, resembling the ones Nero had seen and ignored on his every day errands throughout Fortuna. And it pissed him off even more, hurling his frustrations in strings of words at Pesh out of sheer desperation.

Kyrie...

Nero fell to his knees, out of breath and energy, too weakened to continue further. Unwilling to mention her, nor even think her name, for it stung so much more than anything. He let her die. Nero wouldn't face the lurking darkness in which he had buried her name and memories, which shone still bright enough to get through at times. Like right there and then, with those golden eyes observing him silently.

Nero didn't know, he had sunken down on his knees, limbs lifeless dangling from his frame, wet eyes squeezed shut and his face turned upwards, to not having to look any longer at the angel right before him. But when he did nonetheless, he was shocked to see him equally shedding silent tears.

Bitterness reached deep inside Pesh like hands, snaking around, looking for something to grab and tear at. He knew exactly the pain. The guilt of failure he carried so long in his sleeping form, haunting his dreams and conscience. Yet, for Pesh at least, it didn't seem so dark anymore, he was wide awake and, cursed or not, his siblings were here with him. And for Nero too, he could also see a little light, flickering like candles in the breeze that announced a violent storm, as he paced in his outburst and rage to walk around in frantic circles, cursing at the skies and empty streets.

Nero's own darkness was a living thing, which could expand and retreat, like a bulbous, sweltering coat of black and sticky tar around his heart, pulsing with different beats and thickened with the sickness that was guilt and hurt. And this evening, Pesh had seen it retreat, shrivel together only to expand in between and now it ripped open and had given up, puffing out it's poisonous cloud to the midnight air in form of Nero's outburst. Pesh just witnessed, how Nero's fractured heart was slowly healing indeed but, as any heavily scarred tissue, it still hurt a lot when the weathers shifted. Devon and Pesh had seen a different Nero tonight and a few times before, not this whiny and violent mess, but a genuine and soft pretty boy, who's innocence had been corrupted by events unknown. Pesh knew, he would like that Nero a lot. Devon already did.

Pesh wiped his face with the back of his hand and staggered forward, his own state no better than Nero's, knowing Devon had heard and seen it all through him. And when he walked up to Nero, he evaporated in his usual golden cloud, that shed enough light on the boy's face to gather the remnants of shimmering streaks of tears and to see his eyes widen a fraction, when the smoke cleared to reveal Devon, wrapping her arms around him as she sank down to his his level, engulfing Nero in the lingering echo of Pesh's warmth and light.

Nero sat back on his heels, eyes zoning out, still limp and mind too dull to register the firm hug Devon gave him, while placing her chin on his shoulder. Devon too cried, because of the unfiltered emotions Pesh had felt, and had let seep through to her - to feel, what Nero felt in this very moment.

Even though, or because, Nero didn't move an inch Devon hugged him even tighter, while silently crying, though she was determined to not let him see this. She just wanted to hold him for a while. A little longer, if it did do him any good, remembering how he had pushed Pesh away rather roughly.

Nero's arms tingled and moved on their own accord. He felt exhausted and tired, relishing in the embrace, for as long as his body would allow it, before hardening once more against any physical touch. It felt as if Pesh had weakened his outer shell, until it was molten, softened enough to let anything through for a brief moment.

Devon hiccuped into his shoulder, when she felt his arms around her frame, clinging to her as if he had been drowning. He heaved a long sigh, burying his face into her shoulder, and he could hear her exhale roughly. He almost knocked the breath out of her, but Devon could care less, because it felt so right to have each other in this crushing, yet assuring hug, that let them know, the other was there. Nero felt transported back onto his spot on the couch, where he had experienced that short blissful moment, which he had been equally ashamed and proud of. His messy feelings didn't let him pull back now either, determined to make him feel all and everything at once until his head spun.

Over the more he was stunned to find his murmur of a voice in this very moment. "Why are you crying?" It wasn't a reproach nor an accusation of why she did it, but more like a fearful, tentative inquiry.

"Because you are." Devon stated with a quiver in her own voice, which also translated into grabbing the fabric of his jacket and clawing at it in despair, afraid he would let go in the blink of an eye.

Nero's eyes shot open. The first thing he acknowledged was his brain spelling: awkward. Devon held clawed at his back, pulling him into her even more and he fought hard to not budge and fight it. He responded with hanging on for dear life just the same, to overcome his initial flight mechanism and let it subside, internally rummaging around his brain for a response to the revelation, of how much she must care, if she cried along with him.

As stupid as he felt, the more he became aware of the place they were in, the position and the silence surrounding them once more. Whenever they dared to get closer, he saw the world stop in it's tracks. It shouldn't matter – the place and the time. He felt the rough gravel of the road under his knees, he felt the softer fabric of her sweater, felt her hair on his forehead and on the bridge of his nose, felt the wetness on his cheeks as he pulled back reluctantly, his arms sliding up over her shoulders as he forced them both (himself more than her) to look at each other.

One deep breath sometimes was all it would take. One moment of courage, summoned from deep inside his fluttering stomach. One blink and it would be gone forever. And he sure as hell wouldn't miss it this time. He didn't dare to blink it away, though he felt like hurled away and falling overhead from a roller coaster ride and funny enough, never had he been clearer in his head than there and then.

Devon had no time to react. Her body was frozen in anticipation, when he stared into her eye with such knowing intent and focus, it made her insides churn, and not in a happy way. Her mind screamed no. Did Pesh scream too?

All was lost - her thoughts, her vision – merging into a blur of white and blue. Devon was all blinded as the anticipation painfully imploded. There was no conception left of anything, but instead her whole existence was painfully compressed and pulled towards only one spot.

Nero, for once in his life, didn't think. He bowed his head and crashed his lips onto Devon's, hard and harsh, starving and thirsting. He had never done this before and yet, he couldn't think about anything else. Just this one time, he would allow himself to let go. And he was selfish in this. He wanted it. No mistake there.

Devon had no answer to the deja vu, the recollection of how they had been in this situation before and how she never had allowed herself to think further. When Nero pressed his lips, his loosely closed mouth onto hers, her wishful thinking became real. And if she'd expect this to be life changing, it wasn't exactly that. Yet, it was completely. It was perfectly imperfect. Nero did nothing else, except of staying put. He did not think any further from this moment - nor did Devon, as she moved her lips subtly, coaxing him into a hefty respond.

Nero had acted on impulse, trapped like a deer in the headlights, as he didn't know what else to do. And now, he threw himself into it, quickly. Again harsh and touch depraved like a prisoner, who had given up to beg his jailer for the keys and had accepted his fate only to have the keys hurled at his dizzy head from somewhere out of the darkness around. A miracle.

Devon inclined her head, taking the lead, but Nero was the master still. His strong arms engulfed her, pulling her into him, onto him, needing her everywhere all at once. Devon cupped his face, directing the kiss, while he had the overall control over their bodies as to not let them crash into the dirt to an unpleasant and abrupt ending.

He wanted to concentrate on doing it right and memorizing her motions but failed miserably. This wasn't right, he was tense and afraid somehow. His thoughts jumbled into a big ball of icy threads, yet having Devon kiss him like this, it rolled into the back of his head, further and further. His instincts took over and his eyes fluttered close, loosing himself in the feeling of tongues touching and licking, the longer the kiss lasted.

His face felt hot, cheeks burning harshly and his heart was getting wrecked with small electric jolts surged through him. His nerve ends tingled wilder, his face seemed utterly flushed and the heat left a burning trail and had reached his ears. He was burning up and felt turned on. Urges kicked in he thought forgotten, feeling her chest pressed against his own.

Nero gave up on thinking rationally, instead he just went with his overwhelming need. He felt his blood boil, but couldn't keep it in check either. He was loosing himself in this, his instincts hurling intentions at him at the speed of light.

He had been kissed before, but not that ferociously. It felt much more sensual than anything else he had before, as their mouth moved urgently against each other, suckling and nibbling before plunging right back in.

He held her close in a crushing embrace, pressing her small body into his, needing to feel her. His heartbeat quickened even more, as she touched his neck and her hand snaked into his hair, slightly pulling tufts of his hair before raking through it down to the base of his neck, which made hum lowly in his chest.

This felt so much better as Devon had anticipated. Her lower abdomen felt on fire, boiling even. God, how she wanted this man. As if it had occurred to her just that second, the thought hit her like a freight train. The hum she heard from him was fuel to her inner fire. He felt so good. So strong. His arms held her tight and he had started to massage her hips, pressing her into him.

And his growing need.

His hands started to roam on her body, rubbing her back, then back to her hips, down to her behind, before his human hand slowly crept back to kneading her hip. Within the same motion he had grabbed the hem of her thick sweater to tear at it and hike it up.

And that was what actually woke her out of her stupor...

Intense.

Too intense.

Stop it.

Stop it! Was it her voice in her head? Was it Pesh's?

The fleeting moment of bliss turned. It went sour quickly, like milk curdling on a blistering hot day. Too much, too soon.

And as if she would have burned herself on a hot plate she coiled back out of his firm grasp and away from his beautiful face and remarkably soft lips. He looked confused first. Then hurt.

Just great.

"I'm sorry." Devon stuttered,though he actually instigated it. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm confused. Out of my damn mind actually." This was all Pesh's fault for letting her feel all of that. She blamed the angel and his abilities alone for this. She would have never done that without his meddling.

Nero was stunned into silence, while she stuttered on. "You're...you're so perfect... and I'm...not myself. I'm sorry..." Devon was slowly sobering up by the second, because of the shame she felt. She called him perfect, she realized with horror, her mind acting on it's own and it was true. To her he was.

"But, I wanted it, too." Nero helplessly wanted to argue, voice sounding as if he wanted to snap at her but held it back the last second, feeling hurt and dejected.

She didn't even listen as she slid her hands over her face in defeat. Yes, she wanted this. Wanted him. She'd never expected to meet anyone like him and certainly not be thrown into this kind of mess. And the worst, and what actually made her afraid, Devon didn't even know, if she would be here soon any more considering the curse of the angel. Whatever she felt, being ripped away from Nero like that, if she let herself go with it, would be the most painful thing she'd imagine. To be ripped away from all this, as dramatic as it sounded, made her feels so utterly afraid and stunned her into doing nothing, only leaving the most considerate option: to tell herself she wouldn't let it evolve only to see it gone.

It was settled. Inside, Pesh was silent. "No. No, you don't." Determined, she turned away form him. "I don't." It was like a guillotine, severing anything, that had bubbled up. No tangles left, clean cut, spewing blood and left to die and rot inside her.

Nero stood there with clenched fists at his side, staring at her, his eyes and bringer glowing alike.

Wow. He did not expect this outcome. He finally found that one kernel of bravery and it got swept away in a storm.

And all she could think of was how magnificent he looked, seething with sudden anger. Nero decorated his face with a defiant stare.

But before he could say anything else Devon beat him to it, not wanting to hear anything that would make her weak. "Just forget it happened." She stated as she motioned to the car, unmistakably telling him to go home. Which was cold thing to do and Pesh inside silently begged to not ruin, what he just had accomplished. Even though it had been close to escalate in a matter Pesh didn't quite fully understand, he didn't want this small accomplishment not go to waste. He had felt bad for initially feeling Devon that Nero was off limits and now that he had seen into his heart, Devon was the one to turn the tables on this small victory. Pesh felt sorry for Nero, who had wordlessly turned around.

He got in the car without a last look, then he slammed the door shut and left them both t find their own way home.

Devon stared after him, hoping he was going home still, yet she'd rather not want to check. Great. Now this wouldn't get awkward from here on, she thought bitterly. Damn her. Damn her and these stupid feelings. Traitor. Well, if he was pissed at her that was ever the better. She could deal with pissed. Better that, than hurt.

When Nero slammed the brakes a few minutes later to catch his breath and his mounting anger, he leaned against the wheel, after he rubbed his face. What the hell had happened...? He banged his head three times against the steering wheel until his head was humming, than slammed it with his human hand and additionally kicked the console. Damn it all! Of al things, this sure as heel wasn't something he needed added to his shit list. What the hell was that damn girl thinking after all? He had absolutely no clue, that was the simple truth and all there was.

As he rested his head against the wheel, he made her strangled noise in the back of his throat, as he muttered lowly: "Forget..." He scoffed, how could he forget...?

He'd rather return home and brood about it in the warmth, though that would mean he had to deal with the twins. But that sounded so much more than having to suffer from his rejection by Devon. It would certainly keep him occupied from reliving that kiss over and over. And over again.

"You're a coward."

Devon didn't reply.

"And you are a poor liar." Pesh poked further, yet was rewarded with more silence.

"Tell me why." Pesh stayed persistent, his voice firm.

Devon rejected him and Nero altogether, feet moving onward, determined yet with no clear sense of direction. Inside her head, Pesh was nagging and begging. And it pissed Devon off.

Eyes forward, chin up, she tried to locate where the hell they were and by looking at the moon and seeing that silhouette of the ghastly tower still a long ways ahead, she turned on her heels and marched the opposite direction, then tried to keep it on her left shoulder to walk back.

"I could carry us home in no time." Pesh drawled after seeing her struggle for minutes to find her way in the dark and with pricked ears, to evade any trouble that might lurk around. Pesh wasn't helping from the inside and she didn't feel like letting him out either.

"You want me to shut up." Pesh didn't ask, but merely concluded by plucking it directly from her messy thoughts. Devon sighed at his. There was no way to hide anything from the angel. And it was terrifying right now.

Of course she thought about Nero the whole time. How afraid she was and how little she wanted him to get hurt in any way possible. All the things he had to endure already. And Pesh heard the cataclysm of thoughts inside, the rampaging tides of what ifs and what nows, that cascaded into the abyss in her mind. Fear. Like salty sea air he could smell and taste it on the tip of his tongue. Like turned water with a sour note.

Pesh didn't think she would recoil. He knew Nero wouldn't, after Pesh had provoked him. The demon boy had been exhausted and consumed by it. Pesh had just known, he'd finally be brave enough to do something. And Pesh had failed by focusing so much on him and had forgotten to turn around and look at Devon. He did not see it coming, that she would suddenly doubt everything. Out of fear no less.

Pesh should have seen it coming they way she was afraid to loose her life to the curse. And here, Pesh finally scolded himself harshly. He had so much insight, yet still had messed up royally. His nature simply had deceived his mind. He really should stop meddling in other things lives. Good intention in all good will, but he still had a thing or two to learn about humans. Or demons. He assumed Dante would be his go-to guy, if Danzig didn't return sooner or later. Yet Pesh certainly didn't want to bother him more, than he should. Danzig was doing great things behind their backs and Pesh figured, he wanted it to be this way. His secrecy never failed to amaze Pesh and he hadn't changed about that one bit.

"Please let me take over." Pesh begged weakly for one last time and Devon firmly told him "No". At least she spoke, with bitterness of regret, but he took it. She partly blamed him too for the slip up, he knew, and thus eventually relented. The way they walked would lead them back, she was calming down and it was good thing, her senses finally caught up and chose the right direction. Though it would be a pretty long walk.

And the sky looked like it was about to pour. Again.

---

Vergil escaped with his skin intact and his mind in shambles. Insanity clawed at his skull, crying harshly to be freed. That uncanny anger reared it's ugly head and he wished he could just follow Lucifer, when he left he building, sauntering off without a care in the would or so it would seem.

Vergil had perched a good distance on a pike of one of the many older houses, adorned in their Gothic adornements, the city was so famous for. Shortly after that, he saw Pesh in all his glory leave the vicinity too. The bastard was fast as ever and with his comet tail of light he raced off the direction Nero had taken. Vergil assumed he was sent after him by Dante, or Devon. Or both. Vergil wasn't the least concerned about them. Pesh knew how to stand his ground, even if he showed particular gaps in good judgment. Yet Vergil doubted, that trouble would find him, before he found Nero. He was too fast for that. It was admirable. He really looked like a small shootign star from afar, who had come down to earth to race the foul winds of the city and leave them behind.

One last glance at the now empty house, save for Dante, who's heartbeat was dull and sad, Vergil turned his head and fled further towards the inner city. He didn't want to get even more gloomy with Dante's sunken heart adding to his own grief. The notion to intensify pain had always been a feat between them he particularily despised.

So Vergil wandered the streets to find other company. He took the route to Danzig's home, hoping to find out, if things were good on his end and to inform him of his unleashed pet. Vergil sneered involuntarily at the thought. Of all people, Lucifer gravitated towards Danzig like a moth to the flame, which Vergil found hilarious. Freedom, his sorry ass. Just like himself, they both where bound to their significant other, whether they knew it or not. Though Vergil could at least comfort himself with the knowledge, that the spell that bound him to Dante could be broken under certain circumstances. Lucifer though was bound by somethign entirely different.

Vergil didn't need to look long to encounter Danzig and the riders on their way back to the shop. Danzig waved at him a single time to greet his dark silhouette from afar. Vergil teleported to fall in line right beside him. Danzig didn't even miss a step, when Vergil teleported right between them. Death on the other hand told him to cut it out and War simply grunted.

"Came to pick up us up? You weren't worried, were you?" War was the one to question him, strangely enough, and not Danzig.

"Just going for a walk," Vergil replied sneakily.

It didn't take Vergil long to sense the tension. Danzig was awfully quiet, not even questioning Vergil's blatant lie. Vergil glanced at the riders, yet only Death returned his gaze, burning with unspoken warning. What did the old man do this time? What was he up to and why did no one feel like clarifying the heavy silence?

"What's wrong?" Vergil finally swallowed his pride and asked, even though he hated to ask, when no one wanted to talk of their own accord. He had forgotten all about Lucifer the moment, he saw Danzig. This gloomy expression set off every single alarm in his head.

Yet, Danzig only smiled weakly. "My boy. It's nothing." The old man was as bad as Nero at this. They couldn't lie, if their life depended on it. Vergil could smell their bullshit 100 miles against the wind. What Danzig really meant was 'nothing to concern you with' and the blue twin squared his jaw and bristled at the possibility, the riders where in thid with him and Vergil was not.

He was about to make a good awful scene, about the secrecy Danzig displayed, when he got interrupted mid inhale to voice out his stingy discontent with the overall situation, Two things happened at once.

Death broke into a sprint from next to nothing to booming away like a mad horse, War sighed as he fell into a heavy booted trot, knowing full well he couldn't keep up and yet still had to try nonetheless. Vergil blinked, looking baffled, as the nephilim brothers raced off. "What the hell..?"

Danzig held his shoulder, holding him back altogether. "It's fine."

And from afar Death confirmed it, as he stopped dead on a corner, War arriving many seconds later. He heard mad cackling in the distance and something like a gunshot, but it wasn't one. His brain failed to file the noise at first, but one heartbeat later his eyes widened. It was the sound of a whip.

"The other two have arrived." Danzig said soothingly, as they closed the short distance to see for themselves. And low and behold, a woman with a whip at her side and fiery hair that seemed to defy gravitation, moving around like a licking flame, stood in the middle of the street, having come from around the corner presumably.

A large and lanky male accompanied her, his steel mask, similar to the one Death had once donned, covered his face. Yet his voice sounded cranky and energetic, greeting his oldest brother in an obnoxious way. "Howdy, old wrinkle face. How's it going?"

The red head was much more sophisticated, but not much less arrogance in her voice, than her brother. "Hello, brothers. I hope you missed us?"

Death didn't waste time with a proper greeting, no one expected of him anyway. "Have you succeeded?"

"Indeed." And with that Vergil and Danzig had come to stand a few feet away, receiving both odd looks, as to why they where standing there.

"Pardon me, who are you?" The red head asked Vergil with a now much more velvety voice, that sounded as if she wanted to either eat him or accompany him to his bedroom. He'd appreciated it, if it was neither. Death looked at his sister funnily, for she seemed very pleased.

"Oh, no. Really?" The one with the mask made a disgusted noise at her, exasperated to a funny degree, while pointing at Vergil, who clearly caught his sisters interest. "He's tiny!"

Vergil objected in his head. He wasn't.

"And he smells."

He did NOT smell.

"And he...has white hair?"

"It would complement mine perfectly."

"Is that Dante?"

Now Vergil had enough, showing discontent with his flared nostrils and all. "I am not Dante." Danzig only chuckled next to him. This was rather priceless. He wished the others could see this exchange.

War cleared his throat, awkwardly. "It seems introductions are in order. The woman is our dear sister, Fury. And the loud one is Strife, our brother."

Fury shoved Strife out of the way rather harshly, stretching her hand out to Vergil, who shifted his stance, ready to defend himself. You never knew with these riders in any case. "You must be Vergil. Charmed to meet you."

Vergil stared at her hand, which would easily swallow his whole head and somehow he believed, shaking it would prove rather painful. Her glove was littered with spikes to boot. The woman tutted at him, as he didn't move, his face distorted with a look of suspicion and revolt. "Fine, darling. Have it your way." Her deep luscious voice was accompanied by a tilted head, making her read hair swivel again like a hungry flame.

Strife didn't move, yet held his hand up. "Hey, buddy." He didn't sound to friendly, but kept himself in check.

If possible, Vergil looked even more disgusted at this carbon copy - behavior wise - of snarky Nero.

"Yeah, definitely not charmed either." Strife concluded from his opposites demeanor, who refused to greet back, much less even reply. "What a prick." Strife happily insulted him neatly, muttering under his breath.

"What did you say?" Vergil's voice was sharp, cutting through the night with a hint of warning.

Before either temper started flying, and Death knew both had one to keep his eyes on, he threw Strife a warning look and so did Danzig with Vergil. Like herding kids, it felt. And Death had no mind for this kind of shenanigans.

"On our way then." Danzig announced nonchalntly, as he snapped his fingers, feeling as if he was amidst a classic movie Mexican standoff. This would prove very difficult to keep all of those rather strong personalities in check.

"Where're we going?" Strife asked eagerly, also still happy to meet the one and only Dante, who, from the tales War told him, was more than intriguing. An interesting character, he really liked to meet in the flesh. Also a fellow gun user. Strife liked guns, evident of the two enormous revolvers he had either side of his bony hip, which he so aptly called Mercy and Redemption.

"To Dante's place. You'll meet him in no time." Danzig assured Strife, pleasing him effortlessly, and he gave War a smug look, who only grinned back. War knew Strife was dying to do so.

There was a minor slip up in Vergil's face. A furrowed brow, his mouth a thin line, indicator of an inner struggle. Vergil looked towards the sky. No one had felt it apparently, only him, by the curious look Danzig gave him. "What's wrong?"

Vergil's eyes widened uncharacteristically – and Danzig understood. Fear.

"Move!" Vergil enforced the group and lead the way, teleporting ahead to the ledge of roof up above by the far end of the street.

"Ready yourselves," Death instructed his siblings, unnecessarily so, before they raced after the blue twin.

Danzig was immediately next to Vergil, side eyeing him in a strange fashion, as they drove forward with what given speed they had, though Vergil was the pike of this spearhead formation.

He looked back at Danzig, not knowing how to spill the information, he still held in care. But thinking about it right now, wouldn't prove useful and he cursed at the riders for deflecting him earlier to deliver his spite in the most staged fashion, like everyone would have expected from him.

"You know, that Lucifer has come to the city?" Vergil finally informed him, timing worse but better late than never.

Danzig's face didn't mirror the sheer shock, he felt surging through him from head to toe. Also Vergil's annoying stoic delivery made him bristle at the half devil.

"And you're telling me this because?" Danzig was also a master of emotionless banter, if he wanted to be. Unreadable.

"He had Al with him."

Which was good news no less, but Vergil sounded as bitter as expected and his next powerful leap translated the spite he held for the demon lord. And Danzig guessed the reason why spot on, though he decided to remain silent. Vergil's cold hearted rage was unmatched. He'd rather have it use him on the enemy, than to throw sharp accusations his way. Did Danzig know of their journeys together, that was the question burning in Vergil's glowing blue eyes. Hatred and malice towards Lucifer, for reasons even Danzig didn't know to full extent, for Vergil guarded his motivations like a dragon his hoard – fiercely and without compromise.

Death exchanged a few glances with Fury and Strife. So, they had found Lucifer and send him straight to Dante? Intentionally? Death gritted his teeth, while Strife shrugged at him, reading he reproach clearly off his brother's face. They had accomplished their mission, to which Death had sent them out. To find the old devil and bring him here. Death had never clarified the conditions and Strife expertly had used the loophole to rid him and Fury of the infuriating idiot as fast as they could. Funny, how one could mention Dante and trouble in one sentence and Lucifer was off like a hurricane of bad breath and fabulous hair. Strife couldn't hold the snicker in at that thought, while Death grumbled at him.

He remembered all too well the underlying tension twenty years back, when they had to joined forces, after the incident with his guarded vault of weapons and the crisis that ensued on earth and the events that seemed to stem from it and sprawl out afterwards. They had altered the lives of thousands and most of all, the twins. Though he had already surmised this, when meeting them for the first time, that their rivalry would find it's bloody peak one day. With one left alive and one left for dead. They had reminded him of his younger days with his siblings and the frictions among them, which came naturally with four so strong willed and skilled warriors, each catering to their own code and beliefs. He was glad they made it past the mistakes and rivalry to evolve together to become one - and stronger than any other creature under the Council's unruly reign. He wished for Dante and Vergil to do the same, to unite and stand back to back. He'd praise the day, should they all live that long.

Right now, it didn't seem that way.

If he didn't know it better, he would have thought Vergil's speed drew it's rampage from deep rooted fear. Death could smell fear like the hell hound could smell the intoxicating sweetness of human blood.

---

Devon didn't know how long had passed, but they also didn't seem to have moved forward. Everything looked the same gray and black in the middle of a moonless night and Devon's feet dragged over the pavement in monotonous scraping noises, that would grind down on Pesh's already inflamed nerves.

This was beginning to become a true nightmare. Not that it was before, if she really looked close enough, but this thing with Nero - how could she have seen it coming? Pesh was okay, she could take that and try to cope with every last sliver of hope, that there was, though fear had always swirled in the back of her mind. And Dante had been a grand beam of light, where anything else had been dull and dark - an endless emotionless trot along cracked pavements, like in this very moment. It threw her back many feet.

Devon stopped dead and fell on her butt, hands clutching the dirt on the ground, shaking her low hanging head, as to chase the murky darkness in her head away.

And as if the cursed city had it's liking for dramatic displays of any kind, it started to pour. A downpour to freeze her sweaty frame. She was exhausted. How would she make it home any way?

Home.

Hah.

Where Nero waited, so they could ignore each other. What little they had built up, she had teared it down singlehandedly, obliterating it with stupidity and fear like a sledgehammer to brittle stone.

If Dante hadn't found her, this would have never happened. But that was unfair, and Devon damn well knew this. He was the last one to blame, really.

Yet she still would have the sleeping angel inside her. His soul wrenched into her mind with no hope to be found. No, to wish for this wasn't right. Pesh did nothing wrong to her, either. On the whole contrary, he saved her. He saved Nero, too, just because he had already known what she was feeling. She didn't want to think about it, if Nero had encountered the enemy alone at any point. In her mind, she saw him. She saw him bleed out. And if he could bleed, he could die - demon by a fracture or not.

Devon spilled silent tears over the thought. The heart that beat in her chest grew frantic, just by thinking his name, and her guts twisted painfully - so much, she didn't know if she would ever find the strength to stand up

Messy. It was all so abhorrently messy.

Inside her head, Pesh tried to claw his way out, through this exact mess of thoughts and feelings, which made him choke on the intensity. Devon was drowning in self pity and self doubt over it all.

But he would be damn twice, if he'd let that happen now. Something stirred over the city and Pesh became afraid, and not without reason. "What are you doing?" His voice boomed across the tangled mind of Devon. He urged with might to make her move. "Get up! We have to move! Now!"

Pesh's voice echoed along the frayed ends of her mind, though she couldn't – wouldn't – understand. She just wanted to sit here in apathy and think over the mistake she had made. View it from every angle possible and determine – steel – her heart to not let it happen again.

"Devon, I beg you!"

She refused to understand.

"Focus! Please. Whatever you do, whatever you want, you'll have it your way, I promise, but please...Move!"

He sounded pained, frightened and desperate, his voice a million stabs to her heart, even more than Nero's name. It was off. He begged her, bargained and pleaded. He knew it would hurt. And he used his voice to make it sting, until it bled into existence and make the pain real. Devon looked at her wrist . Too stumped over the small trickle of blood on her wrist to complain loudly. How did he do that?

Pesh was feeling the heavy weight of something in his soul. Something dangerous in the sky. And he knew, if they wasted one more moment away,with Devon rubbing herself into the dirt, she thought she belonged to, they would be too late.

Devon's head snapped up, eyes wide awake. "DANTE!" Pesh yelled his name and it tumbled over Devon lips anxiously.

Her savior. Her home. Her new found resolve to believe in more than just herself.

Devon scrambled up, feeling Pesh burst right through with her consent, and healing the small peculiar wound on her wrist through the transition. "I'm sorry, Devon. Truly sorry..."

The mass flurry of wings echoed in her ears like tidal waves over serene shore. Pesh heard them clear now. The sounds of fighting, the smell of blood. His connections stronger than ever, because there was death all around. And he didn't know, how long Dante would make it against his original arch nemesis in this world. His natural enemy. They knew ways to kill a demon for good. Even the strongest ones.

"Danzig, can you feel it? Where are you?"

Inside, Pesh's words burnt into Devon's floaty subconsciousness. Whatever you do, whatever you want, you'll have it, he had promised.

Pesh heard the roaring engine of Nero's car before he turned the corner. The angel waited him pass them, yet was surprised as Nero hit brakes, spitting dust an dirt into every direction, while he yelled from the driver window. "What the hell are you doing now?"

Too surprised to ask, Pesh ran over. "There's a large group of those hollow angels. I felt them fly along. They stopped moving." He gestured vaguely, yet it was enough for Nero to know. Pesh also looked...anxious.

"Get in." Nero jerked his head towards the passenger side.

Pesh jumped and slid over the hood, ripping the door open, violently even, making it ache and creak at him. He heftily landed on the seat, while Nero already hit the accelerator, making the rear wiggle like a beast ready to pounce.

Pesh slammed the door close and the car was jumping forward, hitting the road as fast as Nero could without crashing into the next wall. He took the turn with screeching tires, his heart beating frantically.

"We left Dante alone." Pesh announced over the roaring engine, making Nero grit his teeth angrily.

"Lucifer left him, too?"

Pesh only nodded, staring ahead, wondering how Nero maintained control over the car with such force and speed. Buildings flew by and yet Pesh felt like they were still moving to slow. He had a bad feeling about this.

Nero watched him from the corner of his eye, how his face contorted, as if he was in pain. He clicked his tongue, although thinking the very same. They should have never left. Not in a crisis like this, where they knew so little and had to anticipate anything. And yet here he was, feeling sorry for himself, while bigger things were clearly on the rise.

But, Dante could handle himself, that Nero knew as well. "He'll be fine. Dante doesn't act like it, but he is strong. Much stronger than them."

Pesh slowly diverted his gaze, viewing Nero with a contemplating look, yet his mind didn't stop to bring pulses of warnings, staying silent.

Nero drove like a madman, which didn't make his words much convincing either. He too was afraid. "What the hell where you doing anyway?"

"Devon needed a short break..."

"Why?"

"She decided it would be a good idea to walk on foot."

"Is she alright? Why are you out?"

"I had to beg her to go on."

Nero chewed on his lower lip. Was it because..?

Pesh read his expression easily. "Yes."

Nero groaned in frustration. "Look. I'm sorry. I get it. No need to talk about it, alright?"

Pesh nodded, but was thinking the exact opposite. Inside, Devon was silent, hearing Nero talk. He was bitter about yes, but still, he came back for her.

Pesh kept his mouth shut this time. He didn't want to meddle with them either anymore. The reason was hers to tell Nero. Pesh gave up on the responsibility. He handed it over to Devon alone.

"Almost there. Get ready." Nero gave the car a last push around the last corner into he street of their home, tires screeching as he held it from skidding. Pesh smelled the smoke. The ashes, the burnt flesh and blood. He choked on it.

Nero slammed the brakes and the two men hopped out of the car, ready to fight. Nero's bringer was brimming with light and heat, his eyes were glowing, blue dots in a shaded face. Pesh's entire form was shining brightly. And around them was nothing but silence, as they stared ahead at the collapsed building, that once was Devil May Cry.

Both exchanged a horrified look and sprang forward, ready to dig out Dante from under the pile of rubble. No enemy was in sight.

"DANTE!" Both yelled his name, as they started to clear a way to find him.

---

Gene sniffed the air while Ash stood next to him with a darkening expression. "Isn't this the way?"

Gene held his hand up in order to silence his brother and his other siblings. He closed his eyes, trying to pinpoint the dread brought over by the picked up winds, but dulled through the heavy falling rain. His eyes shot open. "There." His voice was low, warning them.

"What the hell are you doing up there?" A merry voice cut through Gene's action of narrowing the field of search down.

They turned towards the empty street far below and well, there was a rare sight to behold. A blonde guy with a large object on his back, draped in something like a poncho stood there, shielding his strange eyes from the rain, grinning like a madman.

"A demon." Ash easily recognized the nature of the being, before he took a step towards the ledge, nodding once for the others to follow and simply dropped down. Water and dirt splashed, as he landed gracefully, as if he jumped off a stool and not from a building of 50 feet in height.

Johnny had taken a few steps back, leisurely avoiding the impact, while his smile didn't falter for a second. "Wow, there's more of you."

Ash towered over him, which was pretty uncommon for Johnny, who was pretty tall himself by human standards. For angels and demons though, he was apparently a fair average. "Who are you? And what do you mena by 'more'?"

"Pleasure. Johnny is my name. By now, I know an angel when I see one. I know of many creatures wandering the city, but your kind seems not among the usual meddlers. If I wouldn't have met one as yourselves not too long ago though, I would have laughed."

Ash blinked, confused by the speed and mocking tune of that melodic voice, he didn't find either pleasant nor appropriate in a moment like this, with facing four of them and having nothing to show for - except a strange voice, fast tongue and a sneer. Which he sneered into the face of a lion, whom he yet hadn't even remotely poked, but was on a good way to do so.

Ash's face matched the grin, though his was more toothy and close to a snarl. The corners of his mouth were turned upwards to show his pearly whites in the ghostly light of Johnny's translucent eyes.

Dan rolled his eyes dramatically. Ash always charged in head first. "Come now. He introduced himself politely."

Ash merely snapped his head around. "And you think that's a solid reason to let him pass." A statement that stung, though Dan couldn't argue. He did think exactly that.

Johnny lifted his hand, index finger pointing upwards. "To be fair, I would have walked by you, and you wouldn't have even noticed, until I decided to call out to you."

Gene snorted. This guy was right in his humble opinion, which no one asked for nonetheless, so Gene decided to remain silent.

"We're wasting time." Ash growled at Johnny, blatantly ignoring the sloppy reproach. He had no nerves to deal with the likes of him. He huffed and turned away from the siren. "On our way."

Johnny viewed Ash's nice and broad back, slightly perplexed. "Uhm..."

"What? Are you going to get in our way?" Ash was short on everything by now. Time, patience and temper.

"Actually, I might ask myself, if we, per chance, might be headed the same way?" Johnny's nonchalance made Ash's blood boil.

Dan quickly sided with Ash, whispering something, to douse the roaring flames in Ash's eyes.

Yet, Johnny could hear it perfectly. What a bunch of idiots were they? He absentmindedly flicked some imaginary dust of his index finger, chewing on the inside of his cheek, while waiting for the other to clarify things to the big blonde, for his ears might have been clogged with a rather prominent distaste for demons.

Johnny sighed to himself, dramatically on purpose, still feeling two pairs of golden eyes on him from the other two behind the bulky guy with the blonde mane and the dark haired man.

"You said you met an angel?" Red asked him, minding to not sound to curious or hopeful. Or friendly. He failed.

"I met many. Killing them in fact." Here Johnny briefly looked over his shoulder, whether back to his destroyed club or to silently thank the shiny thing on his back, he wouldn't clarify.

Ash groaned at him, for the moment pacified, to hear this Johnny out, by Dan. "Get to the point."

"Well, those small fish I killed. Yet I met one, that was completely different."

"Meaning," Gene interrupted Johnny with a warning undertone, also slowly sharing Ash's impatience. The guy was taking pleasure in this, and that rubbed Gene the wrong way as well.

"He was a gorgeous one, very golden and blonde. Tall. Lanky. Eyes like fire." Johnny tallied up the most common traits in a sing song voice, to instill further need to explain.

The siblings exchanged a knowing look. Who could he mean other than Danzig?

"He was warm. And soothing. But, really the most prominent thing I remember was: comfort." He finally came to conclusion, they were indeed looking for that one, he had met at the club.

All eyes went equally wide at him. "It can't be.." Was all Red muttered, seeing how shocked Dan looked. Gene was in disbelief and Ash outright raged. "Where! Tell me, where, demon!"

He went so far as to grip Johnny's shoulder harshly, trying to apparently shake the answer from his curling lips.

Johnny took his wrists and shoved the angel away, making Ash gawk at him, then at his hand, then back at him - stunned by the strength from those long and nimble finger he clearly didn't see in them.

Johnny's face wasn't friendly anymore. He rolled his shoulders, where the angel had dared to touch him. "You come into my city, without introducing yourselves, while I politely did so, even if I don't have to answer to your kind in any way and yet you act, as if the place belongs to you and have the audacity to lay a hand on me, when I did nothing wrong in the first place."

Gene viewed the siren with a hint of respect and disbelief. He didn't know how Ash, the proud lion, would react to get properly reprimanded, so he was readying himself to intervene eventually.

Ash stared into Johnny's eyes, that changed to look like pearls in blood, flashing dangerously. The siren equaled the angel in terms of pride and they both acknowledged it, none taking a step back though.

Yet, the one to talk was Red. "You've met...", he choked a little on the name of the brother he hadn't seen in an eternity, even believing he had died,"...Pesh?" He sounded so heartbreaking hopeful and genuinely close to tears, Johnny's eyes broke contact with Ash's to observe the dirty blonde with the wide, and happy, smile, which brightened the whole street. Johnny's anger dissolved. Diffused by the very same smile he had seen on Pesh, now it came from another. Though this one seemed a bit older than his precious brother, he still showed the same charming childlike attitude where it was needed.

Johnny sighed and nodded. "Yes."

"The real Pesh?" Red asked again, but Ash interrupted Johnny from clarifying yet again, and unnecessarily so. He inclined his head to Johnny, who scoffed in disbelief, though he returned the gesture and gave Ash a curt nod. He'd rather talk with the other one.

"Shall I lead the way? You seemed lost up there."

Gene scrunched his nose up. "No, we weren't." Gene held himself together, just like Ash at the emotion of Pesh, which he received silent credit for from the lion like angel. They couldn't risk to show, how much this meant to them. Yet,t heir hearts all pounded in the same awaiting rhythm.

It was the first time the only dark haired man spoke. "Not entirely." He winked at his spluttering brother. "And by all mean, yes. Lead the way." Dan finally managed to get them on track, eagerly to see if this was real just the same.

Johnny showed interest in Dan the moment he used his voice, which wasn't deep and intimating like the big one's and not as full as the offended angel's, but it was pleasantly raspy. Johnny decided he liked that one too, but the youngest was his determined favorite, for as he said Pesh's name, there was a love overflowing from his eyes, that quelled in Johnny, like it did, when Pesh himself had spoken and touched him.

These angels where interesting creatures. Of course, they were.

"Better be careful. Something smells fishy, and it isn't me." Johnny pointed at the night sky in the direction of Devil May Cry. "I was on my way, as soon as I could and as I was asked to."

To Johnny's utter devastation, the joke he so liked, went over everybody's head. His shoulders slumped, yet there was a ray of hope, when Ash addressed him again. This time his voice was a more deep and rumbling mellow tune, which gave Johnny a pleasant shiver, he spitefully ignored for now, for his earlier behavior.

"What kind of creature are you?" Ash asked, as they went on their way, lead by the siren with the black object he had on his back, which caught the interest of the angels, feeling it hum with magic. As they looked closer, the shape kind of seemed familiar and so out of place on the demon's back, it couldn't simply be what they thought.

"A siren." Johnny answered truthfully, seeing no reason to lie about it, even if Ash had appeared to be disgusted by the idea of a demon free roaming along the city.

"Is that a guitar on your back?" Johnny merely grinned at Dan, who didn't feel like holding his curiosity in any longer. "No it isn't."

"I bet it is. An electric one for sure." Red piped up, receiving a happy head shake from the siren. "Wrong."

Johnny started to like this game. "You have another guess left." He looked at the dark haired angel, prompting another try from him with his face splitting grin.

Dan did him the favor, briefly scratching his chin as he pondered all the instruments the same size and shape, he ever came across, then reconsidered. "Make it four guesses, so everyone can try." Here, Ash simply grunted in return, not amused with getting involved. He didn't feel like entertaining the siren. These where cunning and dangerous creatures with powerful voices. He never had seen one to quite look like Johnny, who seemed to have changed into a normal looking human for blending in. It was compelling, he'd give him that, yet he would try to be on his toes around him. He couldn't rust the voice of his and he had felt that power surge briefly, when Johnny had pried his hands off of him.

Yet he had to give Danzig credit, if he managed convert this one to the cause. A powerful ally, if he proved to be one, when it eventually came to taking sides. Ash simply couldn't shake his natural instinct, even after all this years, though 'dangerous was only as dangerous does' (as Danzig had taught them and it didn't only apply on the other races but their own), but Johnny seemed to do everything in his power to appear as civilized and harmless as possible.

Ashe sighed. He'd take on for the team. "My guess is, it's a sitar." He took in account, how the siren must be true master at his profession, and he found this instrument to be the most fitting for him.

"Alright, that was number three, but indeed, I will make an exception." Here he turned to Gene. "For stealing your guess, I make it four. Though the rules clearly state different. But what fun are rules anyway, if not bend a little here and there, eh?" His mischievous tone didn't sit right with Ash, who yet again read much more into it (too much?), it fueled his dislike for the magic creature. And here had been, trying to act friendly of all things.

Ash gave him an exaggerated huff, which Johnny promptly ignored, in favor of drowning in Gene's eyes, like golden pools, like glistening ponds in a setting sun on a summer's eve. He swore he could smell flowers to from a nearby meadow too.

Johnny shook his head lightly, in order to get rid of the strange sensation, while Gene overtly observed him. "Alright, last guess on me. Talk about pressure." He laughed lightly and Johnny swore, it was the most beautiful thing, Johnny had ever seen and heard.

"Take your time..." Johnny merely cooed at him, not trusting his own voice and senses right now.

"It's Gene. My name is Gene." The angel introduced himself nonchalantly, and Johnny's mouth went dry. Gene just climbed up the ladder of favorites to sit in all his glory on the very top. "Gene, then. Take your time." Johnny was surprised how suggestive he sounded, and not intentional either. Damn these angels. They had a power which they didn't even use on purpose, or so he hoped. Yet again, he couldn't help but drift into estimating the effect, when they did use it on full purpose. Seldom had he met another creature, who could use it's voice to the extent Johnny himself could. It seemed he found his match in the angels. And as exciting as it was, he also couldn't help but to be slightly unsettled by it.

"Cut the chitchat. There's danger up ahead and you play silly games." Ash suddenly snarled, alerted by the distinct smell of blood through the rain. They must be getting closer. "Move." He boomed and the angels were set in motion, leaving a staggering Johnny behind. "It's a banjo." He tutted, utterly disappointed. His eyes followed the four up ahead, while he opened the casket on his back with a snap of his fingers. "There seems work to be done, Clandestine my love."

He moved and held the casket lovingly like a human about to be bedded passionately, only to have it disappear and his trusted weapon lay there in his arms. He strummed it once, humming the tune out of habit, and as fast as a rolling waving in a storm, he raced after the dashing angels before they disappeared from sight.

---

Dante had been snoring lightly, sunken into his comfy chair, feet on his beloved desk, magazine still spread over his lap, one hand dangling form his side, while the other one laid on the paper, ready to scratch his nose in his light slumber.

The crashes and bursting of the windows, glass shards glittering in the chummy lights, alerted him nonetheless. He was quick. Too quick.

Hollow eyes followed the rustling magazine as it hit the floor, after the red flash had moved to throw his chair over his head in order to knock one of his underlings out of the air. He had dodged the chair with a lazy flap of huge wings, while the thing hit another of the soldiers square to the face.

The moment it hit the wall between door and broken windows, something whiffed past him, to slice his left wing and impale the very same minion behind him, nailing it effectively to the wall. The skull from the sword's hilt silently growled at him as he struggled to maintain balance with one wing, as it presumably flew back to it's red clad owner.

His hollowed voice growled loudly, before he landed on his steady feet, still searching for the obnoxious half breed.

Dante laughed at him and his halting companions from behind the bar, a shot glass in one hand and bottle of brown liquid in the other. He offered it politely, still stunning the angels with his inhuman speed, as he tossed the glass at the leaders face and took a huge swipe directly from the bottle.

"Can't look at you while sober. Gives me the chills."

"Laugh and be merry while you can, pest." The leader pointed his neat lance at him. Dante curled his lips into a daunting sneer. He couldn't wait to impale the angel on that shiny golden toothpick.

"Pest. That's a new one. More like pissed. Pun intended." He held his index finger up and laughed over his own stupid joke, but suddenly coughed from pouring a way too generous amount of alcohol down his burning throat. Danzig's stuff was indeed rough.

Dante shook his head like a wet dog a few times, making it quite the comical display, yet he assumed those angels didn't have one single funny bone in them. However it may was, he'd break every last one of either way.

"You are a violation of the law and thus you shall die." The leader had the courtesy even to clarify their mission. Nice.

Dante mimed his antics in sheer mockery, rolling his eyes in addition. "Blah blah blah. I violate many things and your law is not even close to top of the list, believe me."

"Perish!" The big hunk of armored angel boomed at him, hitting the ground with his lance, like the stomp of a giant. It echoes through the house, cracks appeared everywhere and the walls shook bottom to top. Dante heard things fall and break everywhere.

If they knocked over Vergil's carefully assembled and alphabetically ordered bookshelves, they were truly in for a good beating from his twin. He would make sure, Vergil would learn of it this very moment. Dante focused as hard as he could on the link they shared, delivering his secret message and for the twin to aptly feel it in his guts.

Vergil, I really need you here right now.

Dust and small pebbles kept falling from the ceiling and onto Dante. He shrugged them off, looking as unimpressed as ever. The last window burst open and the onslaught from the fully assembled angels versus the lone hunter was in full session.

---

When Nero arrived with Pesh, the fight was over as fast as it had started. Nero stared openmouthed and wide eyed at the ruined shop. The top had crumbled into itself. Vergil's room was simply gone and the rest of the ceilings and walls had fallen to level with the outside stone steps. The doors lay there, half buried under rubble, glass shards lay strewn across the pavement, glitterign like rubies and diamonds. Blood everywhere.

Pesh just watched Nero's face fall into a toxic desperation. Without a word, they exchanged a nod. Nero's ghostly bringer manifested, starting to clear the rubble. "Dante! Where are you? Answer me!"

Nero's pleading voice pierced Pesh's ears and heart, while he too attempted to pry the heavy blocks of crumbled stone away. They worked frantically, Nero huffing all the way while Pesh tried to feel for Dante's presence, like feelers, his consciousness extended, alerting Devon inside in the process.

"He'll be alright." Pesh repeated it like a mantra to her and Nero. The hybrid ignored it and only sped up his effort, until they had cleared the front area and Nero laid eyes on the destroyed desk, which looked like someone had it smashed with a big hammer. Or like someone had fallen on it.

There was so much blood and Pesh luckily refuted Nero's suspicion. It wasn't Dante's. Well, not all of it, but Pesh kept his mouth shut. The amount was making him sick to the bone. Even for Dante, that was a lot of blood lost. How would he have generated so much to cover the loss? Was it possible? He had witnessed, how Nero have had a hard time (and almost had failed) to withstand three angels at once, so even the demonic blood had it's limits.

No, Dante was a whole another level from the younger hybrid. His half breed status was flawless. He combined all the best traits, didn't he?

Pesh caught himself, as he neared Nero's staggering speed of picking up and flailing chunks of wall behind them, and kept at it. He was just as scared for the hunter. Devon was terrified by the idea, he might be gone and begged heartwrenchingly to find him. Nero was fighting some damn tears even.

Pesh felt like he was in a choking nightmare. "Dante!" His voice boomed through the night, through the stone and rain. Through every crook and crevice. The fear and hope mixed together to become painstakingly piercing and like a beacon for Dante's griping pain, that engulfed his entire body. His mangled body had a harsh time of functioning altogether and the uncanny slow healing process added to his excruciating throbbing head.

He coughed up the blood clots from his multi perforated lungs. "Ugh...nasty." He gurgled from his torn throat. His tongue was sticking to his palate and his crushed rib cage made it so hard to even inhale the tiniest amount of breath to speak. He coughed again, sounding as if his windpipe was filled with gravel.

His healing had stagnated after the attacks, he had suffered through and from. Their weapons had a curious ability to make his demonic traits malfunction. His triggered state had been unaffected, thank god, but after he had burned the amass of energy he had harbored, he had been out like a light. Steaming and fuming like dry ice, as his scales and horns dissolved into something like black goo. Of course, they had something like anti-demon-weapon, his slow brain had registered, before he had taken a well deserved nap, after the house house had crumbled over and on top of his split skull.

The moment they pulled Dante from the cellar, or what was the rest of it, all scattered groups of companions arrived on the scene.

It was a flurry of words and too bright and loud for Dante. He saw a few familiar faces, Nero's was the first though and he couldn't help but ruffle his bloodied hand through the white looks, painting them dirty pink in the process. Nero didn't seem to mind, bombarding him with questions. Dante's haze made it hard to follow. Nero had placed Dante agaisnt the stairs, where he barely could sit upright and his head lolled around, as if he had a broken neck. But he still looked up and down from time to time, as Nero knelt in front of him. Dante tried to smile at him, yet it was only disturbing with the split lips and bloodied teeth. Nero's insides churned at the sight.

"Shoun't hve dat boubn..." Dante slurred, still grinning.

"What?" Nero was totally baffled at the first response he got from the older hunter. Yet, he had no time to decipher the meaning.

"You are an idiot." Vergil came forward, pretty much knocking Nero and Pesh out of the way, while the rest of the assembled people stared at the powerful hunter and his worrisome state, while hetried to talk with his beaten and bruised face. Vergil could see the bone fractures under his eyes and his unhinged jaw. It was disturbing to watch.

"It's time to move. Now." Death grumbled at Danzig and his siblings.

"Can't he heal?" Pesh asked Vergil, who had also knelt down in front of his brother, expression furious, voice a cutting snarl full of disgust. "It would seem your kin can counter the power of Sparda just fine. We should have taken that into account. He is healing, but it is very slow."

Vergil put his hand over Dante's scraped and cracked one, feeling for the demonic pulse, that surged with Dante's blood through his body. It was in an uproar, working meticulously to weave the uncountable cells back together. In this state, Dante couldn't travel. Not like they had intended at least. But meaning, no portal usage, they would have to go by vehicle. Vergil didn't even want to think about the possible dangers of making such a trip. And who would make it deliberately?

While Vergil debated with his inner self, Nero fought with the aftermath of his shock to see Dante in a state, he didn't think possible for the strong half blood. Pesh had staggered backwards in distraught, wiping the blood and dust from his hands, while he searched Danzig in the crowd of people. He needed a second and a few blinks. When had this become a crowd anyway? He saw the riders, and two others next to them he didn't know. Then he met Danzig's eyes, but not only them, but the eyes of his brothers?

Pesh gawked silently, not believing his watery eyes. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he blinked again, leaving trials of dirt, only to pool at the corner of his mouth and to drip from his trembling chin. He carefully staggered forward, praying this was real. And it was.

Gene and Red sprang forward, thinking they were in a hazy dream of love and light, when they finally held their small brother in both their arms, encapsulating him from all sides, as Dan joined the breathtaking reunion, no one else had time to watch, for the shock over the lost home and defeated Dante struck them deeply.

Ash was the last to join, with Danzig beside him, to let them revel in their moment of blissful content. Though he did smile at their happy hearts, hearing their declaration of love loyalty to one another and the pleading to never be separated again from here on.

The riders looked at each other, knowing the feeling of deep bonds all to well. They weren't always siblings, but they were now. And nothing out there would ever change that. Death face didn't betray his feelings though, when he spoke to Danzig, who left his siblings the space and time they needed.

"Well, angel, at least one good thing happened today." The pale rider sounded bitter, but War shook his head at him. "Let them have their moment of happiness. Who knows, how many are left to share."

"You know you can still call me Danzig. That's still my name, Death." The rider nodded. "It's a force of habit."

"I know, you have no love for the ones that still dwell in the heavenly realm, but here on earth, you can be sure, we are not like them. We won't betray you in order to further our own agenda."

"Hear, hear," Strife said solemnly, mostly to himself.

Only now, they had a mind to observe, how Nero and Vergil knelt in front of Dante, who seemed to recover. Barely, but he did.

Vergil minced no words, as he stared at Nero, brimming with rage. "Why did you leave him?"

Nero immediately shot up, repulsed and ready defend himself. "He's your brother. You're the one who walked out of him!"

Vergil too rose to his full height, eyes flashing dangerously, as Nero decided he wouldn't take shit from him. "He was supposed to look after himself!"

"Yeah, well. I thought so too!" Nero spat back, and they realized, with everyone staring at them wide eyed, the angels had even interrupted their merry meeting, how ridiculous they must look, bickering like children, when Dante sat there, wheezing harshly, trying to form words with his jaw still slightly out of position and tongue smashed.

Both turned to the hunter, simultaneously falling to their knees. They hardly deciphered the words, if at all, but they believed he told them to shut up.

Vergil was fuming again. "Where is your goddamn sword?"

Dante flicked his hand, cracked fingers pointing into the vague direction of the shop. Vergil gritted his teeth, as Dante beckoned it over apparently. He prayed it wasn't damaged. He knew, what happened the last time, his sword broke. He sure as hell, wouldn't let Dante meet the same fate. Though he highly doubted, anyone could break it, no less these angels, even if their own swords cut deep and harsh.

They heard a deep scraping noise and a few bumps and thumps – Rebellion tried to free itself, as it's master called. It came crashing threw a few moments later, easily landing within Dante's grasp, which was still to weak to pick it up by the handle. Vergil placed it carefully on Dante's lap and examined it closely. It was intact, no scrapes or marks visible to the naked eye. Relief washed over him at the sword in tip top condition.

"What's wrong?" Nero interpreted Vergil's concerned look over Rebellion.

"Nothing. It's alright." Vergil replied curtly, yet knowing Nero wouldn't leave the matter alone by the look if it.

"What's so special about anyway?" Nero didn't disappoint.

"My father made it, along with Yamato."

Nero nodded, and by Vergil's quieter voice, he swallowed his anger and simply stood up to take a few steps back. The image of Kyrie's necklace before his inner eye and the pain deflected everything else he wanted to say do. He simply let go for now, leaving Dante and Vergil to themselves and rather joined the riders and Danzig, who huddled together like they where conspiring something important anyway.

Danzig and the riders had exchanged a look, that clearly had said, Vergil didn't even know half of the story behind those swords. And everyone assumed, it went over Nero's head, but it didn't.

Dante coughed and was finally able to move, clutching Rebellion closer to his body. The only good thing their father had ever done, in his opinion, though Vergil might argue. So he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to discuss (argue) that topic right here and now. But he tightened his jaw, and with live moving back into his body, he clutched it with both his hands, clicking it back into place and wiggling his chin a few times for good measure.

Johnny observed from his position he had taken, after the angels had discovered, that they had been too late. But now, he felt the urge to interrupt, mainly so the brothers wouldn't escalate. Dante still couldn't stand, but that wouldn't keep him from opposing Vergil. They were both stubborn fools sometimes. And what did he know? They ended up trying to kill each other multiple times.

Johnny shuddered. That wouldn't be nice right now.

He casually walked over and Ash was the first to respond to his appearance. Who would have thought?

"Ah, I wondered where you went. At the promise of battle no less?"

Johnny bowed, his banjo safely secured inside it's casing on his back once again. "It was over. So I decided I wasn't needed for now."

Danzig weakly smiled at him though, once it was estiamted, the imminet danger had passed. The old man welcomed the siren with an extended hand, which Johnny grabbed, only to cover their hands both with his other. "It's good to see you. I'm glad to have you join us."

Johnny gave him sad smile and a nod. He hadn't anywhere to go anyway. And now the shop was gone too. Everything seemed to go to hell since the day, the obnoxious crow had visited his office.

"Where's the stupid bird?" Johnny greeted Death in his usual way, by insulting his trusted pet. War only huffed at the siren, while Strife and Fury snickered at each other secretly.

"Dust is scouting a way to get out of here. We can't stay any longer, and will have to move tonight."

Nero had observed quietly until now. "What? Where are we going?"

From behind the group they heard Vergil sigh exaggeratedly. "Well, now is as good as a time as any I suppose?" He pursed his lips, giving Death a reproachful look. The rider showed no reaction whatsoever. "Of course." Vergil figured, not the least surprised, Death could care less. But with Dante slipping in and out of consciousness, while the staggered healing process luckily progressed further, he deemed himself lucky.

"Why is it such a big secret in the first place," War asked the blue twin also not getting it. And how would he or the others understand? The only one truly knowing what the deal was with the old mansion, was Danzig. And he was the one Vergil tentatively had opened up to, only to learn, that Danzig had indeed the resources to start and finish Vergil's wish and request to restore the old house to it's former glory. And Vergil never knew or wanted to find out, how Dante would react to it. Dante never had been sentimental about their former home. On the contrary, he found the shop better than any other place. It was his and his alone. He had liked the old leather couch. The dirty bar, the flickering sign. The destroyed jukebox. The common kitchen with four different stools, all collected or found. It had all the corny and musty Dante-charm, he could have asked for. Every little piece and furniture, Dante had carried in and placed it himself, to prove he was alone and could make it alone either way.

Dante had never even mentioned their former home once, after it had burned down along with...their whole childhood.

So, Vergil couldn't answer War's question truthfully or keep it short on account of all of the above. And the prospect, that Dante might never wanted to set foot in there ever again, because of all this and the memories attached to it.

Danzig stepped in as pacifier, before Vergil's silence would be taken as rude. Which it did anyway. "It is complicated. But yet, so simple. And now, it is our only hope of shelter and protection."

Nero was chewing on his lower lip, not in the least satisfied Vergil's non explaining. Secrets - again and again and again. And it made him snap. "Would you please tell me at least? Am I the only one who doesn't know, what they are talking about?"

"No, you're not. I want to know, too." Pesh suddenly stood next to him and what he said, caught Nero off guard, making him gape at the blonde.

Danzig only chuckled. "It's a mansion, miles and miles far west from here settled in a huge forest, a days drive I reckon. It belonged to Vergil's and Dante's parents and was long abandoned. I bought the land on Vergil's behalf, and we rebuild it completely." He should have added, he did it while Vergil had been away, yet he found it fair to mention, they both had put in a joint effort, with Vergil providing all blueprints form memory and every detail he wanted fixed, while Danzig had provided the resources to do so.

"No way." Nero looked over to Vergil, who still stood unmoved, like a statue. He thought Vergil would rip Danzig a new one, but after a few seconds of awkward silence, he simply shrugged. Which Danzig found to be very Dante-like, and it made him smile slyly.

"In essence, yes. What Danzig said. I'll tell you the whole story, once we are there."

Nero couldn't stop gaping. Vergil just admitted to tell him the story of their home, of the past nonetheless? Now, he couldn't absolutely wait to hear that. And to move. "Seriously?"

Vergil sighed. "Seriously."

Pesh felt Nero twitch nervously under the prospect, he had just been offered much longed for information. Was he happy?

Dante sat up, having to hear every single word, yet he didn't say anything, processing all of this information fo things, which had been essentially decided over his head and without him. Yet, the mansion, he could care less about. Vergil could do with it, as he pleased. Dante had no interest in it. But the truth of having to physically go there, was a whole other thing. He really didn't feel like doing it. But he had no choice either, still unable to stand on his own two feet.

"We have to travel by the traditional way, though." Now was Danzig's time to admit something critical int heir plans. Vergil did ask him to verify it as destination for one of the portals, but Danzig had been to anxious to do so, while nobody was watching the mansion, simply out of precaution to not fall into a trap as soon as they teleported there. He had placed a heavy barrier around the perimeter, which could only be broken on location. And by him, effectively separating the mansion from Vergil even, should anything have happened to him. Yet, he believed Dante, after the trick with the controlled mirror portal, to be able to handle even that.

The broken mirror. He wanted the thing to be moved as well, he remembered. It could still be of good use to them. "I left it protected and I can only break the spell, once we are there." He explained sheepishly, while Vergil looked sour. Damn the old man and his overwhelming paranoia. "And you thought, that it wouldn't become inconvenient?"

"I definitely thought we'd have more time." And Danzig felt the weight of remorse and put the blame solely on himself. It had been another mistake to believe Dante and Vergil could handle themselves. Dante was too reckless and Vergil was to hung up in his own misery to effectively account all the troubles around. They all hadn't deemed it possible.

"Nero. Gimme a hand, will ya. " Dante's voice didn't sound to weak any longer and Nero quickly was at his side, when he tried to stand up, using the wall to back him up. "We'll take the car. Fuck, were you always this heavy?" Nero grunted, as he put Dante's arm around his neck, grabbing the hunter by the waist and steering him towards the vehicle.

Dante huffed and grunted, yet he gave Nero the widest grin. "Are you calling me fat?"

Nero only laughed in return, all too happy, that Dante was alright enough to joke. "No, all I'm saying is you're not in a very good shape."

"Well, I didn't loose, if that's what you're implying." Dante gladly took the bait, from a teasing Nero.

"I didn't. I merely assumed." Nero said in a deflated voice.

"Then you assumed wrong." Dante informed him slightly offended, the grin slipped out of place.

Nero almost dropped him. The conversation turned serious in a heartbeat, as Nero opened the back door and let Dante slide inside to sprawl over the back seats. He did with a few huffs and groans, yet he felt better nonetheless. "If you wouldn't have had lying me on the cold and wet pavement and go off to have your chit chat, I would have gladly informed you, I beat them all. The house just collapsed on top of me as I was recharging."

Nero quirked an eyebrow at him, his look questioning Dante if he was being serious.

Dante winced through his shrug before he collapsed straight back and let Nero almost shove his legs and feet in as a rebunk, but the hunter groaning pain had him rethink. He did as gentle and gingerly as he could. His stomach still twisted, seeing Dante exhausted like this. Too exhausted to heal properly in the usual quick rate. He really must have taken a beating there and it was Nero's fault.

Dante saw the regret in his expression. "Eh, what can I say. I did go all out on them." Which was needed, Dante had to burn through his stamina and resources like a crazed madman in order to defeat over twenty of those angel things. So, essentially he won. Only that the house didn't withstand the force of the battle. And Dante had been to weakened to get out in time, accepting tons of bricks and shit and whatnot to easily bury him underneath. It knocked him out cold immediately. And that's how Nero and Pesh had found him. Also those heaven forged weapons did him in good, he had to admit.

Danzig grabbed the initiative all the while, leaving the great introductions for later.

"The riders will head north with me and my siblings. Out of the city for now."

Pesh's head whipped round. "But I want to go with him." He pointed at Nero, who looked just as surprised as the others. "Please," Pesh added wistfully, knowing he'd have to argue with Danzig and was ready for it.

Death too had major objections, making Danzig grit his teeth. "What about the merchant?"

"He traveled ahead, assuming no complication I reckon."

"Shouldn't we at least try to use his portals to drop us off near by?"

Danzig turned on his heels, facing the rider, who towered over him, eyes narrowed and expression clearly spelling how he was displeased with him.

Danzig didn't care. "Ther eis nothign nearby except for wilderness. And now is our only chance to slip away quietly."

"What if we are being watched as we speak?" Death returned as harsh as Danzig had spoken.

"Then, all the more reason to go now, rather than to lead them back to my place. A fight int hte open would do much less damage than within the cities compounds."

Death exhaled roughly. Point taken. He looked at War, who seemed to ponder. But not long enough to slightly shake his head. He was with Danzig on this, Death realized. His younger brother with the hot temper had quickly deduced the same thing apparently. They couldn't afford to take this risk over the other, lesser one.

Death again breathed heavily in and out. "Fine." He viewed the skies as if to make sure, it was empty and dark. "What about them?" He nodded at Vergil, who was now accompanied by Johnny who openly stole glances at mainly the angels. Then at Pesh.

"They will do as they please."

Pesh gave Danzig a grateful smile, although he was in shock his brother would let him go off this easily. Had he faith or was he simply in too much of a rush to argue? Well, he nodded and sided with Nero, giving him a curt nod, like saying that it'd be alright. Maybe he felt like the boy needed it, and maybe Danzig felt that too.

"Verge?" Nero asked in a small voice, not knowing how he'd take it, now that the car was full, with Dante sprawled out in the back.

"I know the way. I can travel on my own." The blue devil replied matter of factly and to Nero's relief, he couldn't detect any form of bitterness. Well, that was settled.

"Dust will show you the way." And just when Death said it, they heard the faint cawing of the huge black bird, as it circled above their heads to fly down in cirlces, landing on the car's hood.

Nero's brow furrowed. "Nice." The sarcasm didn't go unnoticed. War chuckled at him and his skeptic expression. "Don't worry, young Nero. Dust won't lead you astray. He's never been wrong and lead my brother through all three kingdoms without failure."

"So, it's a magic bird," Nero asked genuinely interested all of a sudden. He liked War somehow. And whenever he was called 'young Nero' by him, he felt strangely accepted. It was kind of endearing how the huge red warrior appearance clashed with his gentle voice and reassuring demeanor. It reminded him of Dante. His first impression and the sudden change afterwards - it was the very same. Nero felt safer somehow. He couldn't really explain it. Or maybe it had been relief, that such a great warrior was on his side and not the opposite. And the blooming connection he had slightly felt with War too, after they had talked when Nero had cleaned up the room. He sighed at the thought. What a waste. All of his stuff must be buried or worse, destroyed in the violent battle, Dante must have fought. He briefly though about the suitcase he brought with him from Fortuna. He opened it once to take Red Queen out to never lock it back in. He never touched the remaining contents either and instead shoved it under his bed. To forget, maybe. He didn't know.

Death lead his attention back to the bird, before Nero could wander into a depth and darkness inside he'd rather leave alone. "He is. Keep an eye on him. He's fast." He said it to both Pesh and Nero, warning them to not loose sight and focus, though he knew Dust wouldn't loose them either. But better safe than sorry, knowing the two hot blooded individuals would need the heads up in case somethng would happen.

Pesh shrugged and nodded, as he walked to the passenger side. "Got it." He motioned Nero to get in as well. Danzig seemed impatient already from where Pesh stood. He'd rather not strain his brother further. The scowl he wore spoke volumes. He was surprised Ash didn't already usher them off, as he gave him and th eothers a nod and a longing look. Maybe he thought, since Danzig was there, it wasn't his place. The knucklehead had his principles. One for example, don't cut up the chain of command. Even though banned and on earth and not bound by any heavenly rule, they all seemed to view Danzig as their leader still. Even the twins. And who would have thought? Even the riders. Danzig must have dealt with them for a long time time, Pesh came to think of it to achieve this. Not from his siblings but from everything else. He inclined his head slightly, as looked at the shell of old man his brother was wearing like a cloak. Yes, Danzig was someone you owed repsect. And he didn't demand it, yet it came so effortlessly. Well, effortless might not be thr right word. Danzig had endured a long live already. A very long live he live din full conscience. Pesh's heart broke a little at the thought he had missed it all. And before he would cry again, or worse, glomp his brother in public and out of nowhere, he got in the car, rather staring ahead into the dark. The crow sat on the hood, observing him with knowing, shiny button eyes. And Pesh could only think, yes, this was anything but an ordinary crow.

Nero got in as well, after saying his goodbyes for. He didn't know the way, but that was the least of his problems right now. He started the engine and checked briefly on Dante, who seemed to have either passed out or have fallen asleep. He assumed the latter.

Pesh followed his movement and trailing eyes, turning in his seat. He extended a hand, but quickly (and rather harshly to boot, which took him by surprise) Nero grabbed his wrist. "Don't. Let him sleep."

Pesh stared at the contact, to baffled to answer, mouth hanging open in shock.

Nero didn't burn himself.

The young hybrid eyes followed to where he held Pesh's wrist awfully tight and loosened his grip immediately. "Sorry."

Neither Nero nor Dante had burned themselves, Pesh remembered, while giving Nero a curious wide eyed look, when he retracted his hand completely. Dante only ever so sightly had felt it, when he had shifted from human to devil. And only then. Which Pesh found remarkable. And odd. "I was only going to check, if he was alright."

Nero shifted into first gear, waving one last time to the remaining company. "What do you expect to see?"

"I'd rather feel," Pesh replied cryptically, grazing Dante's arm with his fingertips. He didn't know what he anticipated, but the heat wasn't exactly it. Dante was warm. Not really burning up, but comfortably warm. For a hybrid. With demon blood. Powerful demon blood. Pesh shifted on his bum to fully layhis hand right over Dante's wrist. The pulsing waves of warmth crashed right into Pesh's conscience. The angel once more viewed the hunter with astonishment. It was pleasantly humming under his hard skin. He pulled his tingling fingers away, inspecting his own fingertips with the same expression he had, when Nero had touched him.

Nero observed him briefly from the corner of his eyes, half amused over the angel's strange behavior. He had driven off, turning the first corner, while the crow had taken flight and steered them in a pleasent glide. Pesh didn't even realize this, it would seem. He sank back into his seat. "He's fine. I guess. His heart beats just like always."

Nero chuckled. "Thought so." However,the shock wore off just now, contrarily to his casual exterior. Dante was fine. Of course he was. He was an idiot to not believe anything else. Nothing could hurt Dante permanently. Or so it would seem.

The creature, which looked like a crow, but really wasn't, left a shimmering trail of green dust, easy enough to follow for Nero and his inhuman sight. "Dust, eh?" Nero remarked at the cute trail.

Pesh caught on finally with Nero. "It looks like a tiny faerie, really."

Nero put his tongue in his cheek. "Do you think they exist?"

Pesh spluttered at him. "Do I think..? I know they do."

"You're shitting me." Nero gave him a brief blank stare, before he trained his eyes back on the bird, quickly remembering Death's grave instructions.

"I don't know, what you mean by shitting. I would never shit", Pesh pulled a reasonably disgusted face at Nero here, "on anyone. That's just...wrong."

"It's a figure of speech, geez." And despite himself, Nero felt the bubble of laughter coming up from his belly at the thought of that, a hilarious picture formign in his head. And it felt damn good, bu the refrained from letting it out, but it ended in an amused chuckle. "It means: are you joking with me."

Pesh looked rather comically enlightened now, which gave Nero even more reason to laugh at him.

"Oh. It sounds obscene nonetheless." Pesh pulled a disgusted face, making Nero explain further. "It's meant to be funny."

"Well, no I'm not 'shitting' you." Pesh exaggerated the word and he kind of liked the sound actually. It made him sound more human maybe, and by the look on Nero's face, it was indeed funny. Nero was giggling honestly by now. He was teaching dirty language to an angel and it was hysterical. Once again, despite everything that just had happened, he now found it to be one of his life goals to make Pesh say those things. Not to mention, how happy the angel looked. Nero could get used to him. And it hit him like a ton of bricks. Pesh wasn't indeed so bad. Not at all. And Nero could care less about angels, nephilim and all the others. Pesh was alright in his books. Even though they were eventually meant to be enemies in some sort of twisted master plan. And about that, Nero also could care lesser then less.

Pesh happily blabbered on through Nero's musings and pulled the hybrid back to the there and then, giving him a 101 of faeries apparently. "Though they can be scary. And pretty violent. And very cheeky. I don't recommend to get on their bad side. They have a sick sense of humor. And they are not tiny. Well, some are, but it doesn't make them less dangerous."

"What are they?" Nero found himself asking, for no apparent reason at all. But for once he didn't prefer the silence and the hum of the engine over mindless chatter.

"You mean, where do they belong to?"

"Yeah. Heaven or hell?"

"Hell." Pesh replied matter of factly, seeing Nero's face fall into a shocked expression. "Many things swarmed the earth from hell. Not everything is light or dark, believe me. I know, what I'm talking about." Pesh sounded uncharacteristically bitter, which let Nero's elated mood die down. Memories seemed to flood the angel and not the good kind, he surmised.

Ah, way to kill the good vibrations. Nero looked at Pesh with a regretful expression, which the angel didn't see. He was looking down on his hands yet again, face and eyes blank.

Nero chewed on his lip, inclining his head from one side to the other. "Hey. We all have our package to carry, but it gets lighter with time, maybe a lot of time. You just learn to deal with it, maybe. And I know, whatever you did, it isn't your fault and you mean no harm. To anyone. Not to your siblings. Or to Devon."

Nero snapped his mouth shut, mind blown over himself and the words that just came out of his mouth. Were they Dante's? Where they Vergil's? They couldn't be possibly his own?

Pesh lifted his head and turned towards the strange voice of reason, that just came from the young hybrid. So, underneath it all, Nero saw those things. And understood. Not just for himself though, he didn't.

Pesh awkwardly rubbed his hands together, before he tamed his wild blonde locks, which had fallen into his eyes as he had bent his head down in shame. He wore a thoughtful look on his face, observing Nero, who drove the car with facing ahead stubbornly. And not giving himself the courtesy of saying something elemental.

Pesh nodded to himself in understanding. Nero was a walking contradiction, shaped by events in the past, which had been horrible to experience. And made him closed off and angry. He wore his heart on the sleeve, yet didn't allow his sadness to heal. His anger became a vent. The only he knew. And he knew it wasn't right to las out at everything and everyone. So, he bottled that up as well. Bu tit stil showed from tiem to time. Like the sadness. Nero was torn and stitched himself back up as good as he could. And the twins were the same. They tried to help each other with their package, but to what end, when no one had a good coping mechanism with their emotions themselves. But Pesh knew they were good people.

He was the living proof of it, or the spell would have never been broken.

"I should probably change back. I'm kind of tired."

Nero tried to give him a neutral look, feeling as if Pesh was in need to get away from him fro now. He stirred in things he didn't mean to. Yet to say sorry would mean to acknowledge his mishap, he didn't want to afflict. So, he only nodded in understanding. "Sure."

"It's still kind of new to be out this long. It gets overwhelming." And it wasn't even a lie.

"I think I kinda get it."

Nero was horrified though, the moment Pesh said it. He would have to deal with Devon. And he really didn't feel like it right now. He thought they would be back at the shop, and would have tiem to readjust. And the angry white beast inside him suddenly roared at him. He was a coward. An awkward idiot. She said to forget. Maybe he couldn't do that. But he could act, like he did. Like he always acted, he was fine. So he was. Fine.

"It's fine." Nero said to himself, as if to declare it to the outside world, like he always did. Anything else would get him into trouble anyway. And he didn't wanted to be in trouble on their way to God knows where in the middle of God know what.

"It will be," Pesh responded solemnly, before the tell tale vapor and glow told Nero, he was gone. And instead, Devon sat next to him. Nero mentally steeled and prepared himself to get over with the awkwardness, only to find that her remaining eye was closed. Devon was fast asleep.

Nero huffed out on relief, roughly exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding. He stared up at the crow ahead, still with the green dust trailing from it's black feathers. His eyes could make out everything nuance in the night, yet it still helped him regardless. His sole companion, wide awake as him.

"Well, buddy. Just us now."