I love any chapter where I get to write terrible jokes.

I still couldn't bring myself to move. My hands hovered in the air inches from the kid. He seemed unconscious, and I guessed that was good. Better than whatever was happening to him before, at least.

Until a few seconds before, he'd been screaming, so loud and desperate that I could hear his throat tearing itself raw. He'd thrown himself from my back, clutching his head and writhing in the snow until all at once, everything stopped. He went still, silent. His eyes were closed.

The natural quiet of the island that had been calming moments before felt eerie then. "Alright, kid," I said just to hear something. "That wasn't fun. Let's not do that again."

I refused to let myself wonder what could have caused it because I already knew that I wouldn't be able to think of an answer. My only thought was to get him home, to get him some food and sleep. We could figure out the rest later.

I placed my hand on his shoulder so I could pull him up into a carry, but the dark blue of his arm flashed to that halogen white in a warning. I jumped away before his hand shot up, before Yamato burst from it, right where my face had been.

"Now isn't really a good time, Black," I snarled as I grabbed for Rebellion. I'd had to hook the sword to my hip to put the kid on my back. I couldn't understand how the Holy Knights I'd seen all kept their swords like that. The unbalance was so irritating that I almost preferred having Rebellion in my hand. Having to wield it against the kid lessened the appeal.

I could tell it was Black just from the way his eyes iced over with fury as he placed his unstable hand under him. Despite Nero's human arm hanging limp at his side, he did manage to push himself upright. Even when he found his feet, though, his attempt to hold Yamato up faltered when he had to stumble to keep his balance.

He was so non-threatening that I felt I could have beaten him without a weapon. Jamming Rebellion's tip in the ground, I leaned against the sword. "You won't have much luck in a fight against me with his body in that state," I said. "I'd be up for a nice talk instead so I don't have to kick your ass." Well, it wasn't really his ass, but- Actually, I didn't want to follow that line of thought.

With his eyes darting over the hillside surrounding us, I had a feeling Black knew better than to chance a fight. He wanted a way out. Too bad he didn't have that luxury this round. The forest was nearby, but here, the trees were thin. The area was flat enough that he had nowhere to hide, and he sure as hell couldn't outrun me with Nero struggling to stand. Actually, Black may have been worse off than Nero somehow. When we'd fought before, I'd seen him hold the human arm braced across his middle, and now it remained dangling at his side as though the limb were dead to him. He would have no advantage in a fight.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem keen on holding a conversation, so I kept it up for him.

"It's not going to do you much good if you possess the kid when he's practically a corpse," I said. "Keep him from eating much longer, and he's going to pass out. So what do you say to us holding off on this fight? We can make a date of it if you want. I'll buy you dinner."

He did understand me. I could see that much in the way his eyes went wide before narrowing. His lip curled in disgust as he brought Yamato up between us once more.

I yanked Rebellion free in response. "Wow, I don't think I'm that bad of a date, but if you want to do things the hard way, let's do this quick so I can make sure the kid doesn't starve to death."

As I waited for him to strike, he jolted like he'd been startled. In a flash of movement, Nero's human arm shot over to Yamato, his hand missing the grip and catching half on the guard, half on the blade. Its edge bit into his flesh as he ripped the sword from the grasp of his other hand.

"Whoa! Hang on!" I barked as, my free hand raising as though I could stop him despite the gap between us. Blood coated the blade and stained the hem of his sleeve. As he turned the sword, I saw what was coming next but couldn't move fast enough to stop it. Black or Nero or whatever-the-hell rammed Yamato through his Bringer, into the underside of his forearm and out the top.

His chin dropped, and his breaths came in hisses through clenched teeth. As I stepped up to him and hesitantly placed my hand around the wrist of his human arm, his grip on the sword relaxed, and he allowed me to pull his hand away. The Bringer was still raised, tense and trembling with the sword through it.

"Kid?" I called, keeping my voice low in case I freaked him out again. His bangs hid his eyes, but with a quick gasp, he stumbled into some form of slurred speech.

"Don't you dare try to tell me what to do. This is my body, bastard."

Something like relief melded with my worry. The kid was fighting. I was glad to know that he could. I just wished he wasn't so literal about it. "Easy, kid," I said. "We'll get you home. Just stick with me."

His harsh breaths caught in his throat as the Bringer flashed again, and Yamato vanished. Great. Once I got that sword back, no one was allowed to have it again, especially not after the kid's Bringer curled into a fist, flicked back and punched him in his own face.

"What!?" I yelled, just as much in annoyance as in shock. Still gripping his wrist, I kept him from falling by holding tight and looking as though I'd dipped him in an awkward dance. This time, I was pretty sure he was out cold, blood pouring from his nose and down his lips. His hand was still bleeding too, adding color to the snow where it dripped.

"Are you kidding me?" was all I could find to say. "Alright, just stay asleep this time, or you're going to get pissed at me."

I didn't have much of a choice, so I hooked Rebellion to my back again and scooped the kid up in my arms. Nero would have hated it had he known. If he woke up as Black, and I didn't have an eye on him, I was sure he'd try to lop my head off with Yamato, so I cradled him awkwardly, his head lolling against my chest.

Once again, I set off in a rush toward the city. My mind whirled as I tried to make sense of fucking anything. Nero had stopped Black from fighting me. I could gather that much. Nero had been the one to stab himself with the sword. As far as I could tell, Black couldn't even use Nero's left arm. When it came to the punching, I was confused. Either Nero was still struggling to put Black down, or Black was pissed enough to try retaliating. Neither option was great.

I didn't need them tearing apart the kid when he was already so weak.

If Black could only use the Bringer, though, I needed some way to restrain it, some way I didn't have to hurt Nero in the process. I hadn't brought the right weapons for the job. Guns and a claymore didn't do me much good. Having Nero back at the shop would have made things a hell of a lot easier, but I wasn't too keen on the idea of trying to transport him.

Stressing him out more wouldn't help anyway.

As if the people of Fortuna didn't already love me enough, I earned a good number of horrified stares once I reached the city. Nero was a bloody mess, and everyone noticed, their hand over their mouths and their eyes accusing as they watched me pass.

No one tried to stop me, so I didn't bother to justify myself to them. I couldn't help but wonder if they might have cared more had I been carrying someone else.

"I hope I don't get us lost," was all I said, trying to lighten the mood for no one.

Between checking street signs, I'd glance down at the kid to make sure he was still breathing and not about to stab me. His nose seemed to stop bleeding, but the break in it was clear. It had cracked out of place and wasn't going to heal right if it wasn't pushed back. His hand hadn't stopped bleeding, blue sleeve stained red almost to his elbow. I was just glad all his fingers were still attached.

That weird arm was a different matter. It didn't bleed. Actually, I'd only ever seen Yamato cut it, and it could have had a completely different genetic makeup than the rest of him. Hell if I knew, but it had healed faster than anything else, new hide growing in to seal the wound.

I didn't think that should have been his body's priority with healing. It should have been vital and fleshy things first, then demonic claws.

My feet found the house for me more than my head did. I looked up to find myself in front of it, a soft yellow light shining through the window and white curtains.

Shit. Kyrie was still there.

"If she asks, this wasn't my fault," I said to Nero. He kept right-on being dead to the world.

She'd left the door unlocked, and I slipped in to find her sitting on the couch and hand-stitching one of Nero's coats. The needle hovered over fabric like she'd frozen in the moment, struck by the sight of the bloody kid in my arms.

"He's alright," I said. "Okay, well not alright, but he'll be fine."

After a few blinks, she gave a nod and shot to her feet. "I'll get the first aid kit. Is he healing at all?"

"Sort of," I called as she darted down the hall. "I'll, uh, put him on the table if that's okay."

Her voice echoed out from one of the rooms. "That's fine!" She must have been more used to this than I was.

The couch might have been more comfortable, but if I had to look at his wounds, the table was a better space. Besides, he couldn't stain any fabric with his blood this way. He didn't stir when I settled him onto the polished wood. "You're upsetting the little lady," I murmured as I checked his hand. "I'd watch out. She seems like she can be scary when she's mad."

Yamato could cut through solid rock, so I wasn't surprised to see the gashes in his fingers showing off cold, white bone. Not surprised, but not thrilled about it either. Hearing Nero speak up didn't help. Between the slurring and his bloodied nose, I struggled to decipher his words.

"Kyrie's here?" he asked. "It's not safe."

"You have some awful timing," I said, a smile tugging at my lips. "Just go back to sleep, kid. Alright?"

"Why? What's wrong?" His eyes struggled for focus as he rolled his head to check his surroundings. At the rate things were going, he'd just wake himself up, and then fixing his injuries would be a pain for both of us. No point in stalling, then.

"It's nothing," I sighed before grabbing his nose and snapping it back into place.

"Ow! Fuck!"

He was awake now.

"Language," Kyrie said as she strode into the room. I'd expected one of those lunchbox-sized first aid kits from a drug store, but the container in her arms looked more like a toolbox. The table rattled as it crashed to the surface.

"Looks handy," I said.

Despite her weary eyes, she smiled. "Yeah, Nero's a master at getting injured, so we had to splurge a bit."

"My healing was taking care of things until that bastard Black decided to pick fights with Savior-knows-what," Nero said, his voice muffled by the demonic hand clutched over his nose and mouth.

"Sorry, kid, I think the fault lies more with you on that one." I set to digging through the medical kit and was glad to find actual forceps and sutures inside. Sewing needles sucked. "If you don't eat, your body won't have the strength to heal."

"You haven't eaten!?" Kyrie's cheeks puffed, her hands on her hips.

Nero's glare shot to me, furious I'd ratted him out. "I was making food! And then things went weird."

"Oh yeah, it was good. I ate it," she said, looking no less annoyed.

"Hey!"

"It wouldn't have kept!'

Well, if I wasn't getting paid in cash, at least I was being paid in entertainment. "Alright, kids," I said, "let's fight after I get Nero's hand to quit bleeding everywhere." Nero's brow puzzled at the news, and he looked down at his hand like he'd never noticed the wounds. "Kyrie, would you mind getting us some food while I put in some stitches? I could honestly use something to eat too."

Her temper vanished for the sake of a polite smile. "Oh, of course. I'll get something whipped up quick."

"You don't need to go all out," Nero said while she stepped into the kitchen. "In fact, please make something simple." She stuck out her tongue at him, and Nero sighed, lowering his voice. "I do most of the cooking for a reason."

"I'm a good cook!" Kyrie yelled.

"I know, but you like sweets too much."

"You could use the boost in blood sugar."

"That's not how that works."

I had a feeling that if I didn't stop them, their arguments could keep going forever. "By the way," I cut in, "do you have any alcohol?"

"There should be some in the kit," Kyrie said.

"No, like, booze."

She blinked at me for a stretch before finding an answer. "Um, we have wine, but we just use it for cooking"

"No whiskey?" I clicked my tongue. "Guess wine will have to do."

It was some fancy red wine, dry and probably disgusting. I poured a full glass for the kid. "Drink up," I said as I unscrewed a bottle of peroxide.

Though his nose wrinkled, he grabbed the bottle and knocked it back, taking a few deep drinks before sticking out his tongue and making a hacking sound.

"Glass too hard to hold?" I asked.

"I thought that was for you."

A chuckle escaped me. "Not 'til after I get you fixed up."

The peroxide bubbled and hissed against his cuts. Try as he might, he couldn't hold back a cringe against it. Kyrie gave him a bowl of water and a rag to help clean his face. Before I'd even finished washing my hands in disinfectant, the water was stained with a red hue from his furious scrubbing. After he was done, he drank more from the bottle.

His poor eating habits did work great for the wine, at least. By the time I set to stitching his hand, he was solidly tipsy, leaning his head back and forth as he watched me work. "Yamato's sharp," I said just to break the silence. "Please don't try to grab it again."

"Yamato can bite me," he muttered.

"Well, it already did."

His answer was a soft growl that sounded like a puppy trying to be intimidating. I may have accidentally jabbed the needle in a bit hard to dissuade him from being difficult. "I don't think you're doing that right," he said.

"I don't think you're supposed to watch while you're getting stitches." He was either putting on an impressively brave face, or the wine was doing a great job at numbing his senses because he didn't react to the forceps digging the needle in or out beyond an occasional flinch.

"Am I going to heal with that thread in my skin?" he asked.

I nodded. "Once your healing starts working again, you'll probably have to pop the stitches out."

With an annoyed hum. He took another swig of wine. "You should have just superglued it."

"It's a dissolving thread," Kyrie called from the kitchen. The air filtering in from the stove smelled of cooking garlic. "We don't keep superglue in this house because someone got his hands stuck to the wall."

Nero puffed up like a startled bird. "I was nine!"

"He thought he could climb it," Kyrie said to me with a grin. I smiled in return. It was good to know that if I ever needed blackmail against the kid for any reason, Kyrie would be happy to provide. It was also nice to see that she could still joke despite whatever was going on. The kid needed someone to keep him from stewing all the time, and he didn't appreciate my jokes.

"Is it really safe for her to be here?" Nero grumbled. I couldn't tell if he was genuinely worried or just annoyed. His occasional sips of wine had his cheeks burning red already.

"Well, if you get drunk enough, I don't think Black will be able to do much of anything."

I'd meant it as a joke, but he took a deep drink from the bottle and kept at it even after I finished his stitches. He even took my glass. "That's not nice," I said. "I'm your guest."

He shushed me, smacking his hand against my face. "This is my house. Didn't even invite you."

My shoulders bounced against my attempts to hide my snickering. "I think I like you better like this, kid."

"I think I'd like you better if you shut your whore mouth."

"Language!" Kyrie called.

"Whore isn't a curse word," Nero said. Some wine splattered onto his shirt as he tipped the glass toward his mouth. "It's a fact."

I couldn't help it. I wheezed with laughter, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. His angered protests only made me laugh harder.

"You two behave," Kyrie said, shooing Nero away from his attempt to claw off my face. "Food's ready." As soon as she handed him the bowl of pasta, Nero's eyes lit up, and he plopped back down to sit contentedly on top of the table and eat. "Too good for the chairs, huh?" Kyrie said.

He shoveled a forkful of the noodles into his mouth. "Like it up here."

Dusting the excess blood and peroxide from my hands onto my pants, I took the other bowl from her with a nod and a "Thanks." The sauce was fancier than anything I ever bothered to make or eat, some mix of oil, garlic, and whatever the tiny leaves were.

Nero was so amused watching the noodles twirl around his fork that he wasn't doing all that much eating. "Kid," I said, grabbing his weak attention span. "Feel up to talking about what happened back there?"

He considered it for a full five seconds before answering. "Back where?"

"On the way back here, when you were trying to make me gray early."

"You're...already gray," he mumbled, squinting at my hair. We were getting nowhere fast.

"What happened when Black took over?"

"Oh, that." His expression faded to worn sadness. "I can't remember well. Everything was so loud. My head felt like it was going to burst. I could only see flashes sometimes, but I could hear everything Black was saying."

"Saying?" Kyrie echoed. "He talked?"

No, he hadn't. Not that time. My brow furrowed as I tried to think of what Nero could be talking about. "He didn't say anything to me," I said.

"Really?" Nero shoved another forkful of pasta in his mouth. "He told me to shut up. Didn't like me talking to you."

Though I still couldn't make sense of Nero hearing Black, another realization snapped into place. Both times I'd seen Black take over had been when Nero was telling me something about his condition. Whatever that thing was, it didn't want for me to know too much. If that was the case, it must have had a weakness, some solution I could find to get rid of it.

"Has he ever talked to you before this?" I asked.

Nero shook his head and must have liked the feeling because he kept shaking it. His voice wavered from the movement. "But there's the ringing."

"In your deaf ear?" I asked.

He moved on to endless nodding. "And Yamato wouldn't shut up."

"Yamato talked to you?" As far as I'd experienced, Yamato was as chatty as Rebellion. As in, it wasn't. Despite the anxiety creeping into my gut, Nero was quite content, falling over to lie on the tabletop.

"Not talking, but like-" He made a horrible, ear-piercing shrieking sound. "I think she was mad that I put her away." His eyes rolled up as another thought pulled at his attention. "Is Yamato a she? Is that a boy or girl name? Red Queen is a girl, so I know that."

"What about Blue Rose?" Kyrie asked, a smile bleeding through her confusion.

Closing his eyes, Nero hummed in thought. "Blue Rose… can be either. They can be whatever they want. I love them either way." His eyes flashed open and caught sight of me. "What about your guns, Dante?"

I'd never considered it before, and I wasn't going to then. "Well," I said. "They're guns."

What started as a soft snicker turned into a barking laugh as the kid doubled over, clutching his stomach. At least he was a happy drunk. "Fuck, man," he said between gasps. "They sure are."

"Language." Kyrie placed a light smack to the side of his head before taking his mostly-empty bowl. "You're getting seconds, so you'd better eat them."

"Fine."

"Dante, you can have more too."

While it sounded like an offer, she didn't wait for my answer. She took my bowl from me like she had him and refilled them both with pasta. Pushing up to my toes, I could see that the pot wasn't anywhere close to empty. "I made too much," she admitted when she handed me back my bowl. "I'm not good at measuring pasta. Nero, you have to sit up if you're going to eat."

An eloquent drunk, Nero booed her before pushing himself back up to sit. If I wanted to ask questions that might provoke Black, that was as good of a time as any. Not only would Black have trouble attacking me with the kid drunk, but Nero was painfully honest from the alcohol.

"Is it good?" Kyrie asked him as he took another bite of pasta.

He shrugged.

"Kyrie," I said as she settled into a pout. "I want to try asking Nero some things. I figure it'll be entertaining. Not that I think Black could manage all that much if he took over right now, but could you go to the living room?"

I knew better than to try asking her to leave. She would have argued with me, and I had a feeling that I would have about as much luck with that as Nero did. Though she hesitated, shifting her weight between her feet, she gave in with a nod and went back to the couch to pick up her stitching.

I just hoped things would go differently from before, or she was likely to find some way to use that sewing needle as a weapon against me. "Kid," I called to grab his attention. "You feeling better?"

With a frown, he poked at his pasta. "I guess."

"You're awfully helpful, you know that?"

He shrugged again. "It would help if you'd go fuck yourself."

"Language!" Kyrie called. "I'll bring out the swear jar. Don't think I won't!"

Nero heaved a sigh. "Fine. I get it." Looked like he could be made to behave after all. "Well, my brain isn't trying to melt, so I guess I'm better. I still ache to high hell, and I'd really like to sleep, but yeah, I'm better."

"What about your eye?" I asked.

His head listed to the side like a confused dog's. "What about it?"

"You mentioned it earlier, said it wouldn't heal."

"Oh, yeah, look." Leaning forward, he grabbed my hand and pulled it up to his face. I was still holding a fork, so I had to twirl it out of the way so he wouldn't stab himself in the cheek with it. He watched my face as I tried to make sense of what he wanted me to do with his. When I moved my fingers directly in front of his right eye, he paid no mind.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" I muttered. "If you want me to just appreciate your good looks, kid, I think there are better ways."

"No! My eye. Look."

He didn't even say which eye. They both looked fine to me, no cuts or redness. Just cold blue. Bringing up the fork, I moved it back in forth in front of his vision as though testing for a concussion. For all I knew, brain damage could have been an issue.

When the fork was at his left, he followed its movements with a bouncing, curious gaze, but when I moved it to his right, he tried to turn his head to follow it. "Stay still, you lush," I said, grabbing his jaw to hold him in place. Instantly, he lost sight of the fork, his eyes darting in search of it. That probably wasn't good. "Can you see out of your right eye at all?" I asked.

"No. I think Black messed it up somehow." Bushing my hands away, he went back to eating like he hadn't told me anything out of the ordinary. "Dunno if it'll heal," he said around a mouthful of pasta.

"You didn't tell me that!" Kyrie fumed from the living room. "You should really have a doctor look at it if it's your eye."

Nero didn't respond. He'd gone quiet again, staring down at his Bringer.

"You still have control, kid?" I asked, taking a step back.

He jerked his head up with a snort. "I haven't had control once in my whole life. I think I made Black mad."

"I'm not sure he's ever not mad. What's wrong?" Because the one thing I needed was more problems to not understand.

Dropping his fork in the bowl, Nero reached over and wrapped his human hand around his devil one. He pulled the limb up before letting go and watching it smack back down to the tabletop. Limp. Useless.

Kyrie's voice shook as she spoke. "I don't understand. What did he do?"

"I don't know, but I can't move it," Nero said.

He may have been right about making Black mad. It may have been able to wrestle control of his arm away as revenge. Whatever that thing was, it seemed like it could take control as it pleased, and it must have known that it wouldn't be able to fight with Nero drunk, so it had given in and let Nero tell me what it had been trying to hide before. But why, I had no idea. Knowing that Nero had lost his sight in one eye didn't reveal anything to me beyond more questions. Unless…

I held my expression even, not wanting to show the horror that was eating me up. If Black could take away control of the arm, it could have taken away control of the eye too. And if I kept asking questions, it might have been able to take more in rebuttal. The bastard must have had some kind of grudge against me having a conversation with the kid.

And I still had no idea what the damn thing was or how to get rid of it.

For the moment, at least, Black didn't have much control over Nero's left side, just the right. I would have thought the Bringer to be more difficult for a demon to try to control, but that almost seemed to be where Black's power stemmed from.

My eyes narrowed as another thought struck me. Maybe the issue wasn't the arm.

"When was Yamato screaming at you?" I asked.

Nero was drunk enough to not take much stock in anything, so he'd moved his bowl between his crossed legs and was still managing to eat. "Last night," he said. "I locked it away because the last time I'd grabbed it was when Black took over. The sword was fucking pissed about it. Would not shut up. I was trying to sleep."

The sword may have been what was possessed if that were possible. Black had still taken over when Nero didn't have Yamato, and devil arms already had demon souls in them, so I couldn't make much sense of that, but it was my only lead. Regardless, getting Yamato away from the kid would save me some grief and wounds, so that was my next step.

I was still working on how I'd get it done.

"I didn't know you were capable of thinking that hard," Nero said, yanking me from my rumination. "Look at you go. Be careful, you might pull something."

Dropping my hand to the top of his head, I ruffled his hair until he growled in offense. "Hush, you little drunk," I said. "I'm trying to help you."

"I don't want your help!" He shoved my hand away while wearing the least threatening pout I'd ever seen. "I want… a nap."

I snorted. The kid was a damn riot while drunk. Once this was all sorted, I'd have to take him out to a bar sometime. The entertainment would be worth the price of the few shots it would take to get him wasted.

"Make sure you drink some water before you sleep, or you'll be even crankier when you wake up," I said before turning to the girl in the living room. She was still stitching away, her expression heavy with worry. I wished I could have given her some assured comfort. Even my lies were starting to wear too thin to work. "Do you have a phone I could borrow?" I asked instead.

"Oh, sure," she said, blinking as though she'd woken from a dream. "There's one on the kitchen counter."

I didn't know many people other than myself who still had a landline, but that was what I found. Snatching it up, I told Kyrie to yell for me if the kid did anything weird, and darted back to the furthest room down the hall. I wanted to make sure Black couldn't hear.

Luckily, I didn't appear to have barged into Kyrie's room by accident. Despite how tidy the room was, everything was coated in a layer of dust. A guest room, I guessed.

I got an answer on the second ring. "What?" she snarled.

"Hey, Lady, it's-"

"Dante, you jackass, who takes a 'vacation' to Fortuna without telling anyone beforehand?"

I had to hold the phone away from my ear to keep her from deafening me. "Glad you missed me," I said. "How'd you figure out I was in Fortuna? Have you been stalking me?"

She made a gagging sound. "I just shaded over the note you left to see the imprint of the last thing you'd written. Saw the address. This is basic stuff, idiot."

"Neat party trick. Listen, I need some assistance."

"Oh?" Her tone lightened with interest. "The great son of Sparda needs my help?"

"I'm glad you think I'm great. Actually, it's about Nero. Something's weird with the kid." If I went into too much detail, Lady would be more of a hindrance than a help.

"That's the boy with the glow stick arm, right? I think he was already on the bad side of normal, but what's up?"

"He's having an issue with Yamato, and I need to get the sword away, but I have to get it out of his arm first. It's sort of stuck."

"Oh wow," she drawled. "The dark, evil murder sword is causing problems. Who would have thought? Have you tried cutting the arm off?"

"Next time I'm calling Trish."

"Have you tried killing him?"

"Yep, going to Trish next time."

She snickered. I could practically see the spiteful amusement in those two-toned eyes. "Alright, so what do you want me to do?"

"I need for you to bring me some things."

Dante is oblivious and bad at this. A second opinion might help.

Extra special thanks to my reviewers!