Chapter 15: Panforte

Disclaimer: Don't own. You get it.

A/N: Okay, the whole blood thing… that was Chiaro's idea. I thought it was stupid. Pretty much reacted the same way Cesare did. But Chiaro insisted. And just for the record, it did not heal Cesare. It purged some of the demons and reversed a bit of the damage, but the fact is that Cesare is right. The demons are his link to life, and if Chiaro continues to purge them, Cesare will die, just like he would have if Chiaro hadn't initially let the demons heal him. In order to be actually healed, he'd need someone who had the power to give him a new link to life. And no, Chiaro is not that awesome.

A/N 2: Panforte is a traditional Italian dessert that's kind of like a rich, spicy fruit cake, except flat. I haven't actually tried it, but I want to. Here's a picture.

It wasn't until an hour later that Volpe returned with the village doctor. "I'm sorry. It took a while to find—what happened to Lord Cesare?"

"He's fine… I think," Chiaro said. "Or at least… he will be. Where is the doctor?"

"He's downstairs, I thought I should check first… what did you do?" His voice, as usual, was accusing.

"Had him drink… some of my blood."

"You what?" Volpe looked repulsed.

"I thought… it might drive away… the demons. I think… it's working."

"He seems worse than before."

"Does he?" Chiaro pulled back the covers and drew out one of Cesare's hands, which was once again entirely human. Volpe blinked, looking slightly less antagonistic but also a little worried.

Cesare stirred a little and opened his eyes. "Is that Volpe?" he asked.

"Yes," Chiaro replied.

"Thought… I told you not to let him see."

"I can't really… jump up and… hide you in a closet… Cesare. Your hands are back to normal."

"Good. Did Volpe find a doctor?"

"Yes."

"Then… he should tend to you." Very slowly, Cesare sat up. He was sweating badly.

"Stay close… to me, though. Or they'll just reject it."

Cesare nodded, leaning back against the back of the bed. "Stop looking so worried, Tagio, I'll be fine."

"How do you feel?" Chiaro asked.

"Everything in me is burning… but it's a good pain, not like the demons. Bring up the doctor, Tagio, just don't let him touch me."

"Of course," Volpe said, bowing slightly and leaving the room.

"You'll need stitches," Chiaro said.

"You think so?" Cesare glanced at his shoulder wound. "I never did before, but I'm being purged of my miraculous curative powers, aren't I? But he can't give me stitches. My blood is still poison."

The doctor came up and tended to Chiaro, stitching the wound on his chest and tending his other wounds, asking a dozen questions Chiaro couldn't answer about who had done this to him, and why, and where that person was now. Then he turned to Cesare, who had been sitting impassively this whole time, though still sweating. Blood from the wound on his shoulder was beginning to seep through his bandage.

"Perhaps you require stitches as well, sir?"

"I don't think so," Cesare replied. "Perhaps you can leave me your thread and I can do it myself if it's necessary."

"That is quite impossible, sir, because of the placement of the wound."

Cesare looked at his shoulder with something that seemed like mild curiosity.

"I'll do it," Chiaro said.

The doctor looked at him, confused.

"My master is afraid… of doctor's needles," he said, just managing to keep a straight face when Cesare glared at him. "So I will tend to him."

"Sir, your hands are wounded."

Chiaro stiffly looked at his bandaged hands. Damn them, why had they removed his fingernails?

"Really, I'll be fine," Cesare said. "I've suffered worse without stitches."

"Give the needle… and thread to… the other man," Chiaro said.

"Yes, sir." The doctor left the room.

"Afraid of doctor's needles?" Cesare asked.

"I couldn't tell him… you were possessed by demons."

"It would have made me sound more impressive."

"You require stitches?" Volpe asked, coming in.

"No."

"Yes… he does," Chiaro said.

Volpe came and examined the wound. "Perhaps a few stitches would be in order. After all, if the wound gets infected, you could lose your arm." Before Cesare could object, he held Cesare still and deftly stitched together the wound then rebandaged it. "If you require anything further, I'll be in the other room."

"Make sure you wash your hands." Cesare rolled his eyes as he left. "As if they would let me lose my arm."

"Poor… Cesare. Had to suffer… three stitches." Chiaro smiled at him. "Was it… painful?"

"Hideously so," Cesare said, laying down beside him. "I may never recover."

…

Cesare moved a little closer, nestling against Chiaro's side. Chiaro put an arm around him to draw him closer, but Cesare resisted. "You are covered in brands and bruises. I'm not going to lie on you."

"I'd be fine."

"Liar." Cesare closed his eyes as Chiaro began to rub his back. "That feels nice."

"So what were you thinking about?"

"Hmm?" Cesare's mind was working slowly since he'd lain down.

"When you were talking… to Pisano and you… looked at me… for all that time. What were you… thinking about?"

"I don't remember," Cesare said, focusing on Chiaro's hand rubbing his back, which stopped.

"Cesare."

"I was thinking he was right. Don't stop."

"But you decided not to kill me."

"Killing you was never in question. I followed his reasoning and came to the opposite conclusion, and now I'm not sure what to do." He reached up and caught Chiaro's hand, placing it back against his back. He smiled as Chiaro began to rub it again. It was almost as nice as when Chiaro stroked his hair, but he wouldn't be able to do that again until his fingers healed.

"You're like a cat," Chiaro said, smiling. "What do you mean… you're not sure what to do?"

"Well… conquering the world and being your best friend… seem a bit incompatible."

"So…."

"Don't know. Maybe instead… I should become a professional cat mimic."

"What?" Chiaro started to laugh. "Ow. What… does your brain melt… when I do this?"

Cesare smiled. "Maybe. I'm serious, though. Not about… being a cat mimic, but…."

"About changing your mind?"

"Maybe… except I can't think of anything else."

"Why not be a… swordsmanship teacher?"

Cesare gave a laugh. "Teach other people how to kill. Quite a comedown from Cesare Borgia the great cardinal." He closed his eyes. "I'll think about it later." He didn't want to think about it or talk about it now. He just wanted to enjoy having Chiaro alive and safe and beside him again.

"Well I'm glad you weren't… thinking of killing me. You kind of freaked me out."

"Sorry," Cesare said. "Stop talking. I want to sleep."

Cesare heard Chiaro give a slight laugh. "Yes, sire, your wish is my command." But he compliantly stopped talking and rubbed Cesare's back until he was able to fall asleep again.

…

Chiaro woke up, immediately conscious of his rising fever and the accompanying pain. He was so cold. Water. There was a glass of water on the bedside that he managed to reach and drink. Why was he so stiff? He sighed and turned to look pensively at Cesare, who was still sleeping beside him, though he didn't seem to be in as much pain anymore. Well, the blood didn't seem to be killing him, and it had been hours, almost a day. That was a relief. He smiled a little. Cesare had come to rescue him. He remembered being stupidly jealous when Cesare had gone to rescue Vanozza, thinking at that time that Cesare would probably never care that much about him. But he did now, apparently. And, terrified as he had been that Cesare would end up getting killed for it or being taken over by the demons, he reveled in the fact that he had come.

There had probably been some amount of self-preservation instinct motivating him; without Chiaro, he would be taken over by the demons, but the fact that he didn't want to be was something in itself, wasn't it? His heart nearly melted when he thought about the conversation Cesare had had with the demonic Pisano. Cesare had stood there and acknowledged that Chiaro messed with his plans—which Chiaro, when he thought about it, couldn't deny—but that he wanted Chiaro with him anyway.

Cesare cared more about Chiaro than he cared about conquering the world. Chiaro blinked, letting that thought sink in. He looked down at Cesare's sleeping form. "Really?" he whispered, softly so it wouldn't wake Cesare. "Do you really?" When had that started? When had Cesare decided that?

"Yes," Cesare murmured.

"What?"

"Yes… I really…."

Chiaro laughed a little. "Idiot. You don't know… what I was talking about. Go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you."

"I love you," Cesare said, apparently guessing Chiaro's thoughts. "More than anything. I never want to lose you, no matter what."

Chiaro hesitated. "More than conquest?"

Cesare nodded.

"What a shame," said a voice, and Chiaro looked up to see Niccolo, the moth sorcerer fluttering around.

"Hey, you. Get lost," Chiaro said, trying to swat him away with the hand that wasn't wrapped around Cesare. But this motion required a surprising amount of energy and sent pain shooting through his body, so he stopped.

"Such violence," he said, taking his human form. "I'm not even doing anything. I came to see if the brave Cesare Borgia was still alive after that infusion of light you just gave him."

Chiaro didn't even bother asking him how he knew.

"I have a question for you, Cesare."

"Go away," Cesare murmured irritably, not even gracing the sorcerer by opening his eyes.

"What are you going to do now?"

Cesare opened his eyes and looked at Niccolo. He sighed a little. "I don't know."

"I really had very high hopes for you, you know."

Cesare closed his eyes again. "So… I'm doomed to failure if I decide I like Chiaro best?"

"You can't have it both ways."

"I can try. Chiaro, you won't mind if I still try to conquer Italy, will you?"

"You are my king," Chiaro replied automatically. "I will support you in whatever you desire to accomplish."

Cesare opened his eyes and blinked a few times. He looked at Niccolo. "There," he said, sounding a bit uncertain. "See?"

"I'm more concerned with Chiaro's influence on you," Niccolo replied.

"Ah, yes, there is that," Cesare said. "Silly Chiaro. Look what you've done to my ruthless ambition." He smiled as he spoke.

"Well I didn't really mean to." Though he certainly wasn't complaining.

"But you like me better without it."

"A bit, yes."

A smile spread across Cesare's face. "Have you come to council me on a career change, Niccolo? Perhaps I should be an exterminator and rid the world of pests like you. I can wage war against all the moth-sorcerers."

"I believe I'm the only one."

"Pity. It won't do, then. I need a long-term occupation."

"Well, good luck finding one," the sorcerer said, turning back into a moth and flying away.

"Bastard," Chiaro muttered.

There was a short pause, then Cesare turned to look at Chiaro. "You really don't want me to conquer the world, do you?"

Chiaro blinked. "I… why would you…?"

"Come on, now," Cesare said coaxingly. "Be honest."

Chiaro didn't know what to say. How on earth could he possibly ask anything more of Cesare? Especially something like that, giving up his dream, for Chiaro's sake? "Cesare… I'm yours. Whatever you want to do, that's what I want to do. I want to serve you in any way I possibly can. You are my king, and I love you."

Cesare didn't look entirely convinced. "Chiaro, if being your king means I can never get an honest answer out of you, I'm not entirely sure I like this arrangement."

"I am being honest."

Cesare smiled a little. "Chiaro, you're not a conqueror."

"No, I'm a servant."

"You're also a person. I'm not asking what Chiaro the servant wants. I'm asking what Chiaro the person wants."

This was getting a little alarming. Since when had Cesare been able to read him so clearly? Startled, Chiaro could only answer honestly, "I want to be by your side."

Cesare looked at him curiously.

"That's what I want, as a person. I want to be with my best friend."

Cesare studied him for a few moments. "Well," he said. "I can promise you that. You'll always belong with me."

Until I lose you to them, Chiaro thought, but he didn't say that. His heart ached.

Cesare lay down and looked at the ceiling. "I'm so tired," he said softly. "I thought on my way to rescue you, Chiaro… that it would be so nice to just be happy. To not have to fight them anymore… or worry about conquest. But I don't know where to find peace and happiness, and I don't know if my personality can really cope with it. I am a conqueror, and I'd go mad if I wasn't trying to conquer something. At least… I think I would. I'm trying to remember if I wanted to conquer the world before they came and possessed me."

"All I remember is you wanting to die. What did you want before that?"

"Well… not too long before that, I wanted to be a sword-master… like Marrone."

"Marrone? Who was that?"

Cesare frowned, paused, then shook his head. "No one in particular."

"You can tell me," Chiaro said. "If you admired him so much you wanted to be like him, he must have been someone pretty important to you."

Cesare blinked a few times. He looked up at Chiaro. "That's right," he said. "You like confidences, don't you? I'll give you one, then, in return for… your medicine."

"Only if you want to."

There was a pause, and then Cesare nodded. "Marrone… was my first friend."

"Really?" Chiaro didn't know Cesare had had any friends before meeting him. He'd seemed so alone.

"Yes. Really… he was like a father to me. I loved him… without reserve. He saved me from the Orsini crowd, who meant to rape me through hatred of my father… and then taught me swordsmanship, taking me under his wing and teaching me to defend myself."

Chiaro smiled. "We should find him," he told Cesare. "Really. I mean, if he was so important to you. Maybe he could give you advice."

Cesare smiled a little, but it was a bitter smile. "Finding him… would be difficult."

"Why?" Chiaro asked, though he guessed.

"Because… I killed him."

Chiaro couldn't help starting at this, which hurt. He'd expected Cesare to say Marrone was dead, but that he'd killed Marrone was completely unexpected. "Um… why?"

Cesare sighed and paused for a minute before continuing. "I was staying at the Orsini house after Vanozza was married off. My father had made the master of the house's wife—Julia, you remember her?—his mistress, and the man hated me for it, since he couldn't get back at my father. Marrone was his sword-master. I think he actually did like me… maybe. He was a friendly, carefree man who loved to tease. A bit like you, actually. But he was also in love with Julia… and she returned his feelings. But… Marrone was an assassin, and they plotted together to kill my father. I loved my father, and I didn't want him to die, so I foiled their plot, but I didn't give them away. My father… things were complicated, and Julia convinced him that I'd been trying to attack her. He sent me away." Cesare closed his eyes, and Chiaro rubbed his back gently for a moment.

"Well… Marrone came and found me. I thought maybe he'd been worried… I don't know. I was still such a child, and I hadn't learned to be properly wary. He asked how I'd found out about the plot and what I was going to do. I told him he should leave the country… I didn't want my father in further danger… but I begged him to take me with him."

"Even though he tried to kill your father?"

"I loved him, Chiaro. And I thought he loved me. I thought… I wasn't really betraying my father, because after all, if we went away, my father would be in no further danger. I told him I was afraid that if things continued the way they had been, I was afraid I would forget how to love someone. It was true, I was. I thought I had until recently."

"What happened?"

"He hugged me." Cesare paused. "And then he ran me through."

Chiaro started again. "He…."

"He said not to think badly of him… that I would have stabbed him in the back and running away with me would be dangerous…." He suddenly put a hand to his face and Chiaro saw that there were tears in his eyes. "The demons helped me… kill him… before he finished me off, and then he was gone." He suddenly began to cry, and he sat up so he could cover his face with his hand. "I'm sorry… I don't know why… it must be the pain… making me emotional."

Chiaro sat up, heedless of the pain, and drew his friend close. A betrayal like that… he was surprised Cesare hadn't forgotten how to love. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"No, I'm… I'm being absurd," Cesare said, trying to stop crying and weakly attempting to pull away. "I didn't even cry then… why am I crying now?"

"Probably… because you didn't cry then. Don't struggle. I'm not going… to think less of you if you cry."

"You're wounded."

"I don't care."

At last Cesare relaxed and allowed Chiaro to lean back against the pillows, holding him. "Chiaro," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Please don't ever betray me."

Chiaro stroked Cesare's hair as best he could with his bandaged fingers. "Never. I promise." He thought sadly that, although apparently Cesare had learned to love again, he might never be able to fully trust someone again. Not even Chiaro. "Hey," he said, "Was that why you freaked out the first time you were awake when I slept with you?"

Cesare smiled a little through the last of his tears. "You mean when you thought I was worried you were trying to seduce me? Kind of slow, aren't you?"

"Well I didn't know."

"I know. But seduce me?"

"Sorry, apparently I'm bad at reading your facial expressions."

Cesare laughed a little. "I'm glad you weren't, though. I think… I like this kind of relationship better."

"Really?" Chiaro said, raising an eyebrow. "The proposal notwithstanding?"

Cesare grinned. "The proposal was a complete joke."

Chiaro rolled his eyes. "Your sense of humor is insane."

"No, I really do like this better," Cesare said. "Once, I thought… but I think that was only because you never held me, or I thought you didn't. But see, you're like… panforte."

"I'm like what?"

"Panforte. It's—"

"I know what it is; it's my favorite Christmas food. Why am I like panforte?"

"Because with panforte, one piece is enough, because it's so good. You'd get sick if you tried to eat the whole cake."

Chiaro felt himself blush a little. "Yeah… I know."

"You've attempted it?" Cesare asked, his voice amused.

"I was six, and no one was paying attention, so I kept going back for seconds."

"I take it you've learned your lesson?"

"Yes." The stomachache had lasted a day and a half. "But that's a different kind of thing. Because friendship love and romantic love are completely different. But if you kept having more panforte, it would still be the same thing."

"Depends on how you think about it," Cesare said. "Everything about me has been twisted by the demons, which is why I let you define the relationship, not me. Jokes aside."

Chiaro thought about this. Did that mean that if he had wanted the relationship to be romantic, Cesare would have been fine with that too? He found the idea a bit disturbing. "How… would you have defined it?"

"I don't know. I never tried to." He sighed. "Do you know how frightening it is to wake up one morning and realize that you no longer have a moral compass of any kind?"

Chiaro raised his eyebrows. Cesare was confiding in him a lot tonight.

"I had a vision… the goal to conquer Italy… but I no longer had any internal sense of right or wrong, only what would be useful and what wouldn't. Which didn't matter to me for the most part, since I'd also lost my ability to care about humanity in general… but then I wanted you with me." He paused. "And that was all I knew. You were there, and it was your fault I was like that, and you hadn't killed me, though I'd wanted to die. Part of me reveled in all the power I suddenly had, but another part of me was terrified of what I'd turned into… and then I remembered you could send the demons away and keep me from getting out of control. And then you willingly agreed to stay with me and seemed to actually like me, and I had no idea what to do with that." He smiled. "It made me want you even more, so that you were more than just my servant. Except I wasn't clear on what the 'more' ought to be, and I wasn't prepared to trust something I actually cared about to my nonexistent moral compass, which was why I let you decide and figured I'd be as satisfied with as much as you would give me. It's only very recently that I've decided I think I actually like this better than I might have if you'd given me more. Which is why I say you're like panforte. This is sweeter in some ways, and healthier… and it's nice to know you like me for me, rather than, say, for my body."

"Well, I'm very, very glad you feel that way," Chiaro said, then grinned. "Though I'm wondering… if I ought to be worried that you think of me as a type of dessert."

"That is not what I meant," Cesare said flatly. "Idiot."

Chiaro laughed. "Fine wine and panforte. Perhaps I should market myself at a confection shop."

"Not funny."

"We could call it 'Cesare's delight,'" Chiaro said, spreading an imaginary sign above him with his hand.

Cesare snorted and he started laughing. "Shut up."

"Hey, it's one more career to consider."

"I think I'll pass," Cesare said, still laughing.

There was a knock at the door, and Volpe came in. "Cesare, you're awake. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Chiaro told him. "We've just decided to open a confection shop."

Volpe stared at him blankly as Cesare started laughing again. "He's being an idiot, don't listen to him," he said.

"I believe I won't ask, though I'm glad to see you're in a good mood. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Cesare replied, his face relaxing into a gentle smile.

"Will we be able to return to Rome soon?"

Cesare's smile faded and his eyes grew distant. "Rome," he said thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose. Once Chiaro is feeling up to it."

Chiaro considered saying he was most definitely not up to it, and wouldn't be for at least a week. He didn't want Cesare to go back to Rome. He wanted his friend to find the peace he craved, to be happy, at least for a little longer. When Volpe turned to him, he shrugged. "I'll let you know."

Volpe made a slightly stiff bow and left the room.

"So," Chiaro said after a moment. "When do you want me to feel up to it?"

Cesare's eyes came back and he looked at Chiaro, smiling a little. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how long do you want to stay here?"

"You are still seriously wounded, Chiaro."

"I'm well enough to travel to Rome. It isn't that far. But I'll hold us up for as long as you want me to."

Cesare's smile tightened and he blinked a few times. "You know," he said, "once I thought you wanted to help me conquer the world."

"I want you to be happy," Chiaro replied, reaching to rub Cesare's back. "Your dreams are boundless, and I want to help you make them come true, but if they've changed, I want to make those dreams come true. Like I said, I want to serve you in any way I can, whether you're a world conqueror, a sword master…." He paused and smiled a little. "…or a confection shop owner."

Cesare gave a laugh, but it sounded a bit forced. "So basically… you'll do whatever I want, regardless of how you, the person, actually feel about it."

Chiaro frowned. He was biasing Cesare's decision. This wasn't right. He was Cesare's knight. Cesare was his king. "Cesare," he said seriously, "if you want to conquer the world, or unite Italy, or whatever, I will be behind you all the way. I will fight for you and kill for you and give you my full support. In my mind, you are already my king. But if you don't want to… if you want to stop and find peace in some small corner of the world… you have my full support in that as well. I can't make this decision for you."

"But I can't stop now," Cesare said, sounding exhausted. "Don't you see? Even if I want to, I've started too many things, and if I suddenly pull out they'll collapse like a house of cards. And I do want to see Italy united, and free from her enemies, but I'm so afraid…."

"Afraid?"

"That they'll take me. That I'll lose control of myself. I don't want… to give in to that darkness… and I don't want it to destroy me. I want to stay with you in the light."

"I'll always stay with you."

"But… you can't keep fixing me if I keep receiving more help from them."

"You could try conquering the world without them," Chiaro said, wondering why he hadn't thought of it sooner. "I mean, Alexander and Augustus Caesar didn't need demonic powers, right?"

"Yes… but they force themselves on me whenever I'm fighting or plotting… and it's difficult to fight them off." He lay down again, and Chiaro rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. "You can't always be holding me, Chiaro," Cesare said quietly. "You can't always protect me. Eventually, I'm going to run out of time." He looked up. "And then I suppose you'll kill me." He sighed. "Unless… I turn from this path. Though it may be too late. Even if I asked Volpe to take over for me…."

"Volpe?" Chiaro asked in surprise.

Cesare looked at him in surprise. "Well I certainly wouldn't ask you to take over. You don't even like killing people."

"No, that's not…." He'd actually started making tentative plans? Chiaro tried to stifle a thrill of hope, but found it difficult. "I was more surprised that you were thinking seriously about this."

"They wouldn't work, though," Cesare said with a sigh. "I can't make Volpe a cardinal. He isn't even a Christian."

"Neither are you."

"Yes, but having the pope as one's father tends to increase one's chances." Cesare sighed. "Perhaps I could delegate to him more… have him conquer the world in my name. But you know, if I give this up, he'll lose his loyalty toward me."

"I doubt it. I think he likes you."

"He wants me to use the demons, Chiaro." He sat up again and put his head in his hands.

"You could… fake your own death," Chiaro suggested.

"Don't tempt me." He sighed again. "What about my father?"

"Do you still feel loyalty toward him?" Chiaro asked, a little surprised.

"Loyalty?" Cesare asked, sounding thoughtful. "Perhaps. I don't know how much of my unwillingness to cut ties with him stems from a sense of loyalty and how much stems from the fact that it's useful to have the pope as my puppet."

"Do you love him?"

Cesare paused. "It's hard to say," he said at last. "All of my feelings… have become so twisted. For my father, and Lucrezia… and you. Except…." He paused again and looked at Chiaro. He smiled a little. "Except that I want to make you happy, not so you won't leave me, but just because. I want you to find a friend in me like I have in you. I want to protect you, and love you back. That's… something I haven't felt for anyone in a very, very long time."

Chiaro's heart was beating a little faster. How could this kind of affection possibly be for him? How was he ever going to repay it? Why… why, why, why couldn't he hold onto it forever? God, he was selfish. Why couldn't he be content with the fact that Cesare loved him now? Something so wonderful… how could he ask for it to last forever? It was too good for him as it was.

Cesare gently smoothed Chiaro's hair back from his forehead. "Chiaro… I don't want to lose that part of my heart that belongs to you, and that's what I'm afraid they'll take if I continue in this path. You saw… that was the part Pisano wanted me to destroy. It's what's standing between me and absolute power… that little bit of light in my soul."

"Do you want absolute power?" Chiaro asked.

"Yes," Cesare replied.

Chiaro smiled a little at the certainty with which he said it.

"But I want it to be mine," Cesare continued. "Not theirs. I don't want them to control me, no matter how much power they give me. I want power that comes from my own hands. And I refuse to sacrifice you to get it."

"But then why do you use them?"

"Because they're useful."

Chiaro blinked. "Isn't that kind of like… using wolves as your sheepdogs?"

"Yes."

Chiaro frowned. "But… do you really think you can control them forever? Doesn't it seem already… like they're starting to use you, not the other way around?"

"Yes." Cesare met his eyes. "That's why… I don't want to do this anymore. Unless I can get rid of them entirely."

"Do you think there's a way?"

Cesare sighed. "I don't know. If I purged them entirely, would I die? They've healed me several times now when I should have. Would the healing they've done be undone? I doubt the devil is the type to forgive a debt."

"But if it was slow… if we purged them a little at a time… maybe your body would have time to heal itself," Chiaro said, smiling a little and sitting up, though it required a lot more strength than it should have. He kept feeling more and more stiff, and cold. Why did Cesare keep sitting up? He was warm. Chiaro wanted him close.

"And how do you intend to do that?" Cesare asked him, raising an eyebrow. "Keep having me drink your blood?"

"It worked, right?" Chiaro asked, still smiling. "I'd be fine. It might work!"

Cesare smiled a little, but his smile was pained. "I would become a parasite."

"That's fine," Chiaro insisted. "We could at least try it, right? Please?"

Cesare's brow knit a little.

"It would make me happy," Chiaro said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Cesare blinked then looked away, starting to laugh. "You are such an idiot," he said, still laughing, covering his face with one hand. "It would make you happy to have me drink your blood? What, is it a good feeling having it sucked from you? Should I give you a bowl of leeches as your next Christmas present?"

"I meant it would make me happy to have a possibility of saving you," Chiaro said, annoyed that Cesare didn't seem to be taking him seriously.

Cesare stopped laughing, shaking his head. "You know, Chiaro, I think you're a masochist, and that's why you like me so much." He looked at Chiaro, a resigned expression on his face. "All right. I'll consider trying it your way. But let's wait a few weeks. Maybe that little bit was enough."

Chiaro beamed and hugged Cesare tightly, ignoring the pains shooting through his body. This would work—he was sure of it!

"Doesn't that hurt?" Cesare asked mildly, hugging Chiaro gently. He shook his head. "You really are a masochist."

Chiaro pulled away, still smiling. "We will defeat them," he said, pulling a 'thumbs up.' "Together, we'll be stronger than they are!"

Cesare smiled. "If you say so. Lie down, will you? You're making me ache just thinking about how much moving around so much must be hurting you."

Chiaro obediently lay back down and was asleep almost immediately.

He'd learned to ignore Cesare's whispering demons in all the nights he spent sleeping with him. They never came too close, and he usually couldn't even make out what they said. But tonight was different for some reason. They seemed to be louder, and for some reason, they seemed to be talking to him, not Cesare.

"Did you think it was that easy?" whispered a voice into his subconscious. "Give him a few sips of blood and the problem is solved? Did you really think you could escape the devil that easily?"

Go away, Chiaro tried to answer, feeling a little scared.

"What, not used to having the devil inside you? Or did you think I'd let you go, give you back to your pathetic demoniac of a master? I will have him eventually. It's only a matter of time."

I don't understand. Chiaro swallowed, wondering why his body seemed to be stiffening, becoming paralyzed with pain.

"You should know. You came up with that quaint little name for it, didn't you? Cantarella, was it? Did you think you were immune?"

Chiaro tried to take a breath. It hurt. Am I going to die?

"Probably. Of course, now your master has a bit of light himself, so the two of you together might be able to defeat me. But he doesn't know how. And you won't be able to tell him. And besides, one he realizes you're completely useless, why do you think he'll stay with you?"

Chiaro swallowed again. Swallowing hurt. Only a nightmare. He tried to rouse himself, tried to find Cesare's hand. Cesare? He licked his lips. That hurt. Only a nightmare. It's only a nightmare.

In the back of his mind, he heard the devil laughing.

A/N 3: Gaah! Chiaro is so DENSE! Cesare's sitting there going, "I think I know what you want, so go ahead and ask for it," and Chiaro just looks at him saying, "Um….." *bangs head. I'm sorry! I'm doing my best!

By the way, I am totally spoiling you guys with these long chapters, so don't whine about the cliffie.