The last thing he remembered was falling. Yukio Okumura sat up, head spinning, stomach crawling up his throat, and blinked in the darkness. Tenderly feeling the moist spot on the back of his head, Yukio squinted through the haze. It was impossible to see anything. Wherever he was was moist and warm and soft underneath him. With his free hand, he felt around the floor. It something like a hard sponge, liquid oozing between his fingers as he pressed down. Yukio scrambled to his feet and instantly regretted moving so quickly. Bile filled his throat and erupted from his mouth, burning his tongue. All those plants and medicine he'd mixed together dribbled out of the corners of his mouth, the smell of fresh vomit mixing with whatever the putrid aroma of the strange room was.

Yukio wiped his chin and took a deep breath. He did remember falling and a pop of bright light before he blacked out. But before that? He flinched as a sharp pain exploded from the back of his head. Pulling his hand away he rubbed his fingers together...they were slick with blood. Blood. The memory of Shiemi lying in a heap, blood pooling around her, came rushing back to him so fast that he staggered backwards. And then Amaimon had had him and taken him from her. The room began to brighten. He had to get back to her, had to save her from that demon. A twinge of pain raced from the base of his skull down his spine. His vision blurred as the room grew lighter still. Had someone turned on the lights? Who?

He stepped forward and tripped over something, falling onto his hands. The ground under his shuddered, a soft spongy surface that splashed something wet all over his arms. Yukio blinked against the brightness, the world slowly coming into focus. There was a pair of eyes in front of him, the were green, and two of his favourite eyes too look into. At least it seemed like them, but this pair was faded and coated in a milky white. Yukio reeled backwards onto his knees and had his stomach not already been empty he would have thrown up. Shiemi's body lay in front of him, dressed in her pink kimono-though it was torn to shreds, exposing flesh that was just as shredded-her head lolling to the side, just hanging on to her neck by a thin line of flesh. From his angle, Yukio could see into the clean slash of her throat. It looked almost like a rose, with a white centre, dark red leaves pooled around her head.

Her face was pale as snow, surprisingly free of any marks or scratches or grime.

Yukio somehow found enough strength in his legs to pull away and stand. His heel smacked into something behind him. He looked down. Ryuji Suguro was lying face down in a thick mixture of mud and blood. Next to him, Izumo Kamiki lay across Renzou Shima, crimson streaking from her mouth down her chest. They all had deep slashes through their bodies, Ryuji had several through the left side of his chest and was missing four fingers on his right hand. It looked like somehow had tried to hack Renzou's arm off just above the elbow, but had failed to use enough strength.

"You're not dead."

Yukio glanced up and felt his heart stop. Rin stood before him holding Kurikara, shoulders shaking as he panted, trying to catch his breath. Blood trickled down from his hands, trailing down the hilt to the blade and dripped onto the ground. His voice was manic but his face was deadly calm.

"Nii-san..." Yukio took a step forward, remembered Shiemi, and looked down as he stalled, foot in the air.

"Why aren't you dead? Everyone else is dead. What makes you so fucking special?" Rin slashed the sword through the air. Blood splashed across Yukio's face and he set his foot down.

"I'm sorry. Amaimon...he caught me off guard and I blacked out. Did he do this?" Yukio attempted to swallow the fear growing in his throat.

Rin gave a low chortle, looked up at his brother, then doubled over in laughter. "Amaimon? No." He straightened, still giggling, and tapped Kurikara against his chest. "Me. I did this."

"You?"

How much blood have you shed? Yukio grabbed his head as the voice pounded through his skull. He staggered backwards and bumped into someone who grabbed his shoulder. Shura stood behind him, her body covered in deep slashes and bruises. She didn't look at Yukio, she kept her focus on Rin as she spoke.

"Where is your heart, Exorcist?" Her voice was steady and sounded inhuman, deep and echoing. When she looked at Yukio her eyes had the same glossy haze as Shiemi's. Red oozed from under her short jacket, seeping down her torso from the hole in left of her chest. "Is this you, Exorcist? You've given up."

Yukio shoved her hand off and flinched against the intense pounding in his head.

"I...I haven't given up."

"You haven't? Look at all this." Rin motioned to the bodies with a swing of his sword and laughed again. "If you tried so hard, why are they all dead but you're still alive? If you tried so hard, why did you let me live? You knew it was only a matter of time, didn't you? This is what you've done, Exorcist."

It felt like Yukio's head was going to explode. He dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "I'm sorry."

Rin grabbed Yukio's hair and lifted his head. He was crouched in front of his brother, Kurikara sheathed over his back, his eyes flaming bright blue.

"Apologies don't mean shit, do they?" Rin yanked Yukio's head backwards and then lifted him by his hair as he stood.

"Nii-san...please, I'm sorry."

"What did I just say?" Rin pulled Kurikara from his back and placed the sword in Yukio's hands. "What are you to do, Exorcist?" Rin tapped Yukio's chest with his hand and took a step back. "Where is your heart, Exorcist?"

Yukio looked down at the sword. Not the easiest way out, he would have preferred a gun, something he trusted to work, to end things quickly. The sword, though it was elegant, felt heavy and clumsy in his hands. What was he supposed to do? Just fall on it? Or maybe make it honourable, a samurai sepukku that he didn't deserve. He felt so small, so naive, like a child playing with a kitchen knife and expecting things to end well.

That was his problem, wasn't it? For the little effort he put in, he expected some kind of great results, something extraordinary, something that could save the world. All he had to offer was himself and that was the least exceptional thing he could think of.

Even after seven years he could still remember the feeling of losing control of his body. If only just for a few seconds, it had felt like an eternity of pain and suffering. His body had just been strong enough, it had just made it, and for that he was forever resentful. It would have been so much better for Satan to just kill him while he'd been contained in Yukio's body. The weaker of two sons, the reason so many people had died, because Yukio couldn't stand to lose his brother. The world needed Rin more than it needed him.

"Stupid boy."

Yukio blinked. Kurikara vanished from his hands and he looked up. The room was gone, along with the bodies and Rin and Shura. Moist, bloody ground had been replaced by scuffed hardwood and two rows of pews ran down both sides of the room. For once, the incessant pounding on Yukio's brain stopped and he looked up at Shiro Fujimoto.

"I probably don't deserve any awards for my efforts, but I was fairly certain I was an okay father. At least raised you a bit better than this." Shiro reached out a hand to Yukio, who flinched, but when his father's palm rested on his head there wasn't any pain. It was warm and gentle. "See, I think your biggest problem is that you're too smart for your own good. That's what the teachers always praised you for though." Shiro raised his voice several octaves. "'Oh Yukio, smartest kid in the whole class'." He waved it off and rolled his eyes. "Damn teachers, what do they know? Uh, no offence. But the thing about being too smart is that you tend to overthink things and overthinking things hurts like a bitch."

Shiro crossed his arms over his chest and inspected his son for a minute before sitting down on a pew and splaying out comfortably. Yukio sat stiffly across the aisle from him.

"I've caused so much pain and unleashed so much evil into the world...all because I was weak. I was selfish. You did your best to raise me better than this but I failed you..." Tears brimmed in the corners of Yukio's eyes and he balled his fists in his lap. "I-I'm sorry, Father."

The laugh that echoed from Shiro filled the whole church with a warmth.

"There you go, overthinking again. Man, who thought it was a good idea to give you enough brains for you and Rin?" He grinned for at Yukio, then turned away and sobered. "People make mistakes, Yukio. People make mistakes because they are afraid or selfish or just because they don't know what else to do. I believe that humans were born of a mistake and so to live they have to keep retreading the same path over and over." Shiro leaned back to look up at the ceiling.

"Are you just going to tell me to learn from my mistakes?"

"What else can you do with them?"

Yukio finally glanced up at his father. "I thought you would hate me for what I did."

"How could I? The sins of the father so often get transferred to the son, and for that I'm sorry." Shiro stood, stretching a kink out of his back. "Like I said, I'll never win a perfect father award, but I tried my damnedest and I have to say, the result even caught me by surprise. You're a remarkable man, Yukio. I think your biggest mistake, and mine, was trying to make you something you're not."

Yukio gave the tiniest smirk. "But we're supposed to learn from our mistakes, aren't we?"

"Like I said, too smart for your own good."

The warmth of the room faded with Shiro. Underneath Yukio's feet, the floor became warped and gnarled and around him the pews rotted. Rain sprinkled down on him from a gaping hole in the ceiling that displayed the dimming light of early evening.

"My you are a pain to track down." Mephisto Pheles strode up to Yukio, careful to step over debris that might dirty his shoes. "I was almost worried Amaimon had done something with you. That would have certainly thrown a wrench in my plans."

"Sir Pheles! We've been looking for you, trying to summon you, but it's been impossible-"

Mephisto drew a line through the air and Yukio's mouth snapped shut. "You were babbling enough to your hallucinations and it's best not to dwell on the past anyways. I'm here now and that's what's important, no?"

Yukio nodded slowly and his mouth smacked open. "So you defeated Amaimon?"

"Not in the least. Your lovely little Exwires did that for me." The demon cleared off a patch on a pew and sat down. "Not without a casualty, I'm afraid."

"What?" Yukio's mind flashed to Shiemi, but before he could ask about her, Mephisto continued.

"Renzou Shima? I think he was a friend of yours, a student at least. It was quite remarkable to watch him fight and his death was hardly in vain." Mephisto gave Yukio a devilish grin. "He killed the Earth King all on his own. You children all grew up to be quite interesting."

"Shima's...dead." Yukio swallowed slowly. "What about Shiemi?"

"No clue. It pays to keep your head down, but you tend to be a little out of the loop. I only know as much as I need to put the proper players in place."

Yukio wasn't listening. "I have to find her then. She was injured. She could be losing blood."

"She is hardly of any concern. Not when your brother is about to become a vessel for Satan."

It felt like Yukio'd been punched in the gut. "What?"

"He has a very powerful book and is going to do a very foolish thing." Mephisto's face became spookily stoic.

"So stop him."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I value my own life too greatly."

"Why would he do anything like that?" The image of Rin, dripping with blood and standing over the corpses of his friends flashed in front of Yukio vividly.

"Because he's trying to summon me successfully and when he does that he'll only be dragging Satan right out of Gehenna and into his body, sealing a lock without a key. Unlike your attempt, it will be successful." Mephisto's voice was a low growl. "And before you ask, no I'm not going to show myself to him, it's not that simple. You need me alive and exposing myself to Rin would only serve me up on a lovely platter for all my brothers and sisters who's orders are to kill me in the most brutal method imaginable. And besides, you have something even more useful to your brother."

"I don't..."

"If Rin is the lock that is going to seal Satan onto this world, then you, my dear boy, shall be the hammer that smashes the lock." Mephisto stood slowly and pulled something from behind his back. He took Yukio's hand in his and placed a gun in it. The first gun, the one that Yukio knew would never miss, the one Shiro had given him the day he'd finally become a Dragoon.

"This is your task and I know your father would never have it any other way." Mephisto grinned as Yukio closed his hand around the gun. "My, my, I must say the quiet resolve suits you. So much like Shiro, never giving up the cause. You're so much like him with the passionate dedication."

Yukio holstered the gun, keeping his fingers rested on the smooth handle and shook his head. The building was suddenly making him dizzy, closing in on him. It was time to leave. He turned away from Mephisto, eyes set on the door, but paused.

"With all due respect, Sir Pheles," he said without turning back, "I'm nothing like my father."

Yukio walked out into the thick, hot air and looked up at the blood red sky. His stomach churned and his heart burned, the gun heavy at his side, but he was finally ready to put an end to hell on earth he'd unleashed. And this time he would not surrender to the weakness of selfish love.