Dorian thought that he'd never had so much fun, and he hadn't even done anything yet. It must've been a side effect of his father showing up—the fact that he was turning into something like a daredevil.

Uncle Vergil had always been cautious with him to a fault. He wasn't babying, but he definitely didn't ever let Dorian get anywhere near something as exhilarating and frightening as his father's motorcycle. Dante was definitely the more reckless of the twins when it came to his son (ironic, considering how they'd met), and it showed at times like this.

It wasn't that his father was actively trying to get him killed. When he'd taught Dorian how to shoot, it had been in a perfectly safe and controlled situation—even if Dorian himself felt a little threatened by the whole thing. And now, though he was sitting on something his uncle would call a "crotch rocket" on bad days and "death on two wheels" on the good ones, he knew that his father was doing everything he could to see that he wouldn't get hurt. That was the point of the helmet, and the gloves, and the coat that was slightly too big, and the two-hour-long lecture.

"Okay, I think you're ready to go," Dante said, and he let go of the bike. "Just remember what I said."

"I got it," Dorian replied. "Brake, balance, bike is replaceable but I'm not." He cracked a grin. "Wreck if I need to, just as long as you get to wake up in the morning and see my pretty face."

Dante chuckled. "You're all right, kid," he muttered, and rapped the top of the helmet with his knuckles. Louder, he said, "You stay where I can see you, got that?" At his son's nod, he stepped back. "Okay, go."

Dorian went. He made it about fifty yards before he crashed. Spectacularly. Thanks to the helmet, he didn't crack his skull open—just knocked his head on the ground a little. He blinked, a little dazed, and then felt someone dragging him up into a sitting position.

He was grinning when Dante pulled the helmet off. "You okay?"

"That was awesome. Can I do it again?"

Four and a half hours later, they finally called it quits, working their way back to the house. Dorian hadn't seriously injured himself, but he was covered in dirt, and all the protective gear had prevented most of the small scratches he would've gotten otherwise. The bike was a little worse for wear, but Dante didn't seem to mind. In fact, he looked almost as happy as Dorian felt.

His uncle was waiting for them, which didn't surprise his father as much as he expected it to. "Sorry to ruin your day of fun," Vergil said, looking down at them from the porch. "It seems that exorcism I was considering has become a little more important than I thought. If you're both still willing to assist, I could use your help."

Dorian couldn't help himself; he pumped his fist in the air with a cheer. His uncle looked at him like he was trying to keep from laughing, and his father just shook his head, a grin on his face.

"You're filthy. Did you teach him how to ride that beast, Dante, or just how to roll around on the ground?" Uncle Vergil asked.

His father laughed.

"C'mon, Uncle Vergil, it's not Dad's fault I can't keep my balance." The sentence slipped out without Dorian's permission, but it felt natural enough that neither of the two older men flinched. At least, not that he could catch.

There was a minute or two of silence, then Vergil sighed. "Given the number of dangerous activities you were involved in when you were younger, I'm surprised your balance isn't perfect." He jerked his head toward the house, a small smile. "Get inside and get yourself cleaned up, and be in my study in fifteen minutes if you intend to help this time around."

Dorian didn't need to be told twice.

Why is this so short? Because it marks the end of the fluffy, happy shit and the beginning of the seriously weird shit that will finish off this story. Hopefully in a few chapters, because this wasn't meant to get so damn epic on me.

I used some references to finish up the next couple chapters, which will be the end of the story. I don't own these things, either (though I do own copies of the books):
Monsters: An Investigator's Guide to Magical Beings by John Michael Greer (specifically, the sections on Demons and Angels);
A Field Guide to Demons, Fairies, Fallen Angels, and other Subversive Spirits by Carol K. Mack & Dinah Mack (specifically, Psyche);
Mysteries of the World: Unexplained Wonders and Mysterious Phenomena by Herbert Genzmer & Ulrich Hellenbrand (specifically, the sections on Exorcism and Grimoires);
The Cthulhu Mythos by HP Lovecraft (which is really a universe of short stories all set in the same general universe as The Call of Cthulhu, which will be quoted in an upcoming chapter);
possibly passing references to The Divine Comedy (naturally, because in this fandom you can't not) and The Aeneid.

The demons all already exist (if you believe in that sort of thing, anyway) in religious texts and cultural mythology, with a little bit of artistic license. That, or they belong to Lovecraft. I'll explain those as they appear. In other words, I didn't make them up, but I did play with them a little.

I think that covers everything.