Oh, would you look at the time? It's sap o'clock.

I'd seen my father wounded dozens of times. Swords, bullets, and fangs had landed blows that would have been fatal to a human. Still, he always healed with ease. I knew how powerful he was, how truly difficult it was to damage him.

Yet a surge of childish panic still tore through me as I saw him drop, his Trigger vanishing once again. Father was not supposed to falter against any enemy, especially not one that had already done severe damage to my brother.

As soon as Yamato reached me, Summoned Swords flared to life in the corners of my vision. They glistened in the gray light and cut through the air with a whistling song. J's wings tore from Father's back to flare up as a shield against the swords. I had every intention to warp into the place of one, to throw myself at the angel with a reckless fury, anything to get it away from my father.

"Vergil! Stay back!" Father's voice was sharp with a command in a way I'd only heard him use against lesser demons. As I halted my step, the phantom swords hovering in the air, Father rolled to the side to avoid a wing that buried itself into the packed snow where he'd been an instant before.

He must have been trying to protect me, but I'd had enough of that. I would not stand idle. Besides, I wanted to see that thing die for all the pain it had caused.

Another wing fell like a guillotine, catching against Father's sword as he threw it up between them as a shield. The feathers split along the blade. It must have cut down to flesh because the white began to soak black, and J let out another wail.

For some reason, Father's eyes were on me instead of the murderous creature above him. Once he had my gaze in return, he jerked his chin up a fraction despite the wince caused by the movement. Though it was obviously a signal of some sort, I would have preferred he kept his attention on the enraged angel now screeching words that were both unrecognizable and agonizing to my ears like a whole chorus screaming off key.

"Mortal realm curses aren't good enough?" Father asked with a sneer. Blood stained his teeth. "You're that desperate? Come on, stop playing cheap. Let's see you really fight, Angel."

Father did taunt his enemies at times, usually with a bright smile and a bad joke that no one but him would laugh at. This taunting sounded more like something Dante would say. Dante, who always wanted all the attention. My eyes shot wide at the realization. Father was playing decoy. He must have known something that J was trying to hide.

Nero.

I turned in the direction Father had signaled before. Behind me, mere inches from where I'd hit the wall of dirt and stone, the air shimmered, wavering like something in the distance on a sweltering day. Stepping back, I reached out with Yamato. The blade seemed to vanish as it touched the distortion - another illusion to cloak something along the wall.

I heard the crack of the angel's wing striking the ground once again, and Father wheezed a mocking laugh. "Where's your god's power? This is all you have?"

"Just go away!" the angel sobbed. "Just die! Leave us alone!"

The illusion flickered so quickly that it seemed like I'd blinked. One moment it showed a wall, the next a dark gap, empty and endless. Yamato appeared whole once again; then it all snapped back to the false image. The angel's concentration had faltered for just an instant, but that was enough.

Though my body still tensed from my mind screaming at me that I was about to smash face-first into rock, I threw myself into the illusion. The world fell to pure darkness. I could make out faint outlines of the walls and floor nearby, but that was the best my eyes could manage even with my demonic blood. The cavern ahead was a yawning void that seemed as though it could have led to an endless fall of an abyss. The air was so thin and icy that each breath tore into my lungs like a knife.

Far too cold for Nero.

I hated to leave Father and the fight, hated to leave that thing alive at my back. Every burning nerve in my body buzzed with an incoherent demonic insistence to go back. But, at the same time, I could only move forward. Like on that day at the orphanage two years before, some thread pulled me where I needed to be. I ran blind into the darkness.

Dragging Nero out into the fray was absolute stupidity. I knew it was, yet I had to get to him. I had to make sure that he was alright. I needed to see that he was alive, needed to see his bright eyes and hear his voice as sharp and irritable as always. I felt as if I didn't have that, if I never heard him laugh again, then the darkness around me would become palpable, would sink into my veins and drown me.

After I made sure he was alive, I could figure out what to do to get him to safety.

A scream echoed from behind me of absolute loss and fury. "No!" J's voice raced along the walls after me. Father's distraction had failed. I didn't know what that meant for him, but I couldn't think about that then. I just had to keep going. Trying to fight the thing while blind in an enclosed space was death plain and simple. The most I could do was toss summoned swords behind me like Dante would foolishly spray bullets in all directions.

Even as I felt something approaching, even as a feather ripped through my side like a bullet through paper, I just kept running.

The wound brought fire with every step, every movement and stinging breath. Heat coated my side, the only thing that felt warm. I wasn't certain when I'd gotten so cold.

"Stop!" J shrieked in its beautiful, twisted voice. With a gust of wind, more of the feathers whipped past me, some gashing along my arms, one across my cheek. "I will not let you hurt him further!"

"Neither will I!" I called in return.

I would not let J hurt him.

I would not let myself hurt him.

Another feather tore through the left side of my chest, shredding my lung so that my next breath came as an agonizing, wet gargle of blood. I staggered just as another voice called out. It kept me from falling.

"Dad?"

He sounded as thin as a wavering candle flame lost somewhere in the dark. Fear and pain filled that one short word I'd never heard from him before. I had always thought the title would sound foreign, yet my blood roared in recognition.

My son was here. My son was hurt. My pain was nothing. I had been through far worse than the hiss of my boiling blood, and I would have suffered even more to get to him. Anything to save him.

"I'm coming, Nero! I'm going to get you home!"

"Dad!" he said again, a hopeful sob.

My knee seared with the familiar burn of another one of those damn feathers just as the ground vanished from beneath my next step. Somewhere below, I could see the glowing ember remains of a sleeping fire.

That looked like quite the drop.

Snapping into my Trigger made every wound burn with fresh pain so white-hot in its agony that my consciousness blurred at the edges. In that moment of weightlessness, I could have been falling into sleep. But that thought vanished as soon as I hit the ground, the impact shattering my ruined knee like an insect crushed under heel. I hissed air through my teeth, catching myself with my hands to keep from collapsing as my Trigger failed once more. A mind-numbing weariness sank in, and my heavy body told me that would be the last of my demonic form for some time. My healing was used up as well, then. I should have listened to Mom and grabbed a vital star before I left.

With luck, I would live long enough to hear her say the usual round of "I told you so."

The weighted sound of another body falling to the lower level echoed around me, but J's voice did not. "You cannot have him back after what you've done."

I pulled Yamato up between us and struggled to find some form of footing. In the end, my broken knee remained collapsed under me. I could do nothing but sit. "That's my son," I snapped as though I could still be threatening. "He's not yours."

"He is my friend! He chose me! He did not choose you. He wished to be rid of you, so I will fulfill that."

J's wings lit up with a sudden, blinding gleam, and my death bared down on me with one quick step from the grotesque child. Even as it flashed in front of me, wings raised like swords, I found my mind stuck on what it had said. Nero wanted me gone. Nero hated me that much.

The pain from that thought was deeper than any of my wounds.

And yet, I could only think that I deserved it.

Because I had done nothing but fail him over and over.

Even now. I was failing him again.

"J! No!" Nero screamed. I heard a rush of small footsteps, bare feet against slick rocks. They were far too close.

The light of the wings grew shadowed in my eyes from the outline of my son standing in front of me, his arms outstretched, his whole body shaking.

He would be nothing against the wings already cutting down toward us.

I didn't think. There wasn't time. All I knew was that my son was about to be cut to pieces. My hand appeared curled into the back of his shirt. Yamato dropped to the ground as I jerked Nero back into my arms, curling around him. My Trigger returned in exchange for blood boiling from my mouth. The pain was endless, exhausting. Every moment I remained in that form tore me apart, but I held on. I needed for it to be enough to shield him. The angel could cut into me all it wanted, but I couldn't let it get through to my son.

Time must have passed. I couldn't quite tell. I couldn't tell much anymore. A comforting sound tugged me back toward reality.

"Dad? Dad!" Small, icy fingers touched my cheek. "Are you okay?"

I wasn't in my devil form anymore, it seemed, though I wasn't sure when it had left. "I'm okay," I lied in a voice jagged as a rusty blade. On the ground around us was a slew of the murderous feathers, fallen and curled as though they could be as light and harmless as any others. The soft glow they continued to give off made Nero's eyes shimmer in the darkness. My arms pulled him in close once more. "Everything will be alright," I murmured. It was an unrealistic thing to say. Cruel nonsense. I'd never been one for placating lies, but I felt I had to give Nero something, anything that might comfort him. "We'll go home. I'll keep you safe."

A sob tore through him as he buried his face against my shoulder. His words were near incoherence. "Wanna go home. Please, Dad. Let's go home. Please. Please."

"Of course, Son." I pressed my cheek to his. He felt like fire. "I've got you. It will be alright."

When J's voice touched the air, Nero tensed. My arms held him tighter on instinct. I might have worried that I was crushing him, but his arms circled my neck in return so hard that I struggled to breathe. "Nero, why?" J asked. They truly sounded like a child for the first time, small and terrified. I could no longer see them or any light from their wings. "Why would you want to go with him? He's horrible."

"No! No! He's not bad!" Nero said. "I'm sorry I broke your violin, Dad! I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry!"

"What?" was all I could manage for a moment. A painful, croaking laugh broke from me as I realized what he was saying. "Oh, Nero, I don't care. I don't care about the violin. As long as you're okay, it doesn't matter."

"Nero," J said. "All he's done…"

"Don't hurt him, J." Nero looked out with a glistening eye toward where the angel might have been. "Please don't hurt my family. I love my family."

"Even your father?"

Pressing himself back in toward my chest, Nero whispered his answer. "I love my Dad."

My eyes burned with tears. I couldn't stop them from falling. How strange. He'd never told me that before. I'd never even thought about it, yet I felt as though I'd just found something I'd needed for so long. My heart beat with the strange assurance. Love. He loved me. Even after all I'd done, after all my failures. I didn't know how he could do it. Perhaps he was confused, feverish, delirious. But I bowed my head over him and gave him something I had denied him for so long as well. "I love you so much, Son."

The angel was silent as Nero's hiccuped sobs filled the chasm. Well, I hadn't meant to make him cry more. I could never quite do anything right.

"Angel," I said, "if you care about Nero and his safety, you have to let him go. I don't care what you do to me, but you must let him get back to my mother. She can heal his injuries and his illness."

"Does he make you happy?" J asked. Though I was unsure if the question was for me, I did not hesitate to answer.

"More than anything."

J sighed, and I could hear their steps begin to drift off to the right. "I do not understand it, but you make Nero happy as well. I've never felt him this happy before."

I wasn't sure how that made sense when Nero was sobbing himself to sleep, but I wasn't going to argue with the mad creature.

"His happiness is not for me," J said. "That is… painful. I have failed."

From the distant mouth of the cave, an uneven set of footsteps dragged along. It seemed my backup was on its way. A relief, seeing as I doubted my ability to move. It was also a relief to feel Father's demonic power, even if only a sliver of it. I should have known the old bastard was too stubborn to die.

As though a swarm of fireflies had all come to life in the cave at once, spheres of soft light appeared in the air all around us. One by one, they brightened the space in an array of colors, hanging in the air like dust motes. For the first time, I could see Nero's bloodied face and damp hair, bathed in blues and reds. He reached out to touch the closest light, but his fingers slipped through. "Cold," he said as his tears turned to sniffles.

And for the first time, I truly saw the angel as well. Well, no, that was an illusion too, but I understood what it wanted just from the wavering smile on its lips. Its bright blue eyes were much like my son's, filled with the same tears. The shining wings at its back began to dull, feathers fluttering to the ground like petals shredded from a flower. Its image would flash and waver, showing the truth of its warped face and flesh, of the blackened blood pooling from it.

But it fought to hold the false form it must have shown my son for so long. It looked so much like him. "It seems this will not last much longer," it said, raising its hands to bring more of the lights into the air. "I hope this is working, Nero. I hope you don't have to see the truth. I cannot see anymore, but I still remember the lights. I miss them."

I needed to kill it, now, while it was open and distracted. But Nero's heavy eyes seemed to have some sense of his surroundings, enough that he looked toward Father as he dropped in among the lights. Father's gaze swept the room as well, lingering on the angel for little more than a second before he limped over to us. "Are you well, Son?" he asked.

"'Well' is a strong word, but I am still breathing. It seems neither of us is in the best shape to climb back out of here."

"Ah, you're both here then," the angel said as Father knelt at my side. "My apologies. I never introduced myself. Well, I should apologize for a great many things." Their smile was pained. "I am J. I had a different name once, but it's just J now, like the letter. I just wanted you to know that I'm real, and it's my fault the violin broke, not Nero's. Nero is very important to me, so please take care of him. He is my best friend."

I had been so eager to kill the angel, but the realization that it was handing its life over to me soured the idea into something far more twisted. Though I knew how to fight and how to end a life, I had never played executioner for the willing. The idea no longer held any satisfaction, just the grim reality of mercy instead.

"Please," J said, perhaps sensing my hesitation. "Not much of me remains. I would wish to be myself at the end."

"I can do it," Father said, but I shook my head and pressed Nero's face back toward my chest in case those dull, exhausted eyes might still be able to see.

I felt as though I should say something to the angel, perhaps some cruel quip or condemnation. Perhaps I should have thanked it for when it brought Nero happiness. But I could manage neither, anger and dissatisfaction both clawing within me with no clear victor. Curling my hand around Yamato's grip, I brought the pale blue light of my summoned swords to join in with the rest.

"I have a great many regrets," I said.

J nodded. "As do I."

"I wish things could have been different."

"Yes." It bowed its head. "I loved you as well, Nero. I'm very sorry. I never wished to hurt you."

And I wished it did not smile and cry with my son's face as I let the blades fall through it. They shattered as the rest of the lights vanished. We were in the dark once again.

Leaving the cave was a hellish task made more difficult because I refused to let go of Nero. Father offered a dozen times to hold him, much how he was already holding me upright despite his damaged leg. "Just for a moment," he'd say, but I could not bring myself to let go of my son. I needed him close just in case something tried to take him again.

Though Nero's fingers were cold even against my chilled skin, his face burned with a fever. "Can you hear me, Nero?" I asked every few steps. His whimpered responses grew more and more distant until they vanished altogether. Once we made it back into the daylight, Father took one of Nero's limp arms in his grasp, examining the dark stain of black across his forearms. It tinged his veins dark as well, a striking horror against his pale skin.

Father started to speak, but I cut him off. "Carry him home quickly." Though my arms still wished to remain locked, I forced them loose so that Father could take him from me. "Let Mom see to him."

"I'm not going to leave you here, Son," Father said as he took Nero, holding the boy in a cradle as though he were a much younger child.

"I won't be able to keep up, but I will follow. Go quickly, Father. I know I can trust you with this." A quirk of my lips toward a smile and a few nice words were all it took. Father could be conned into doing anything that way, but in truth, I meant everything I said. Father would take care of my son. He always had.

"Go slow," he said with worry swimming in his eyes. "Do not strain yourself. I will come back to help you."

For once, I didn't mind the thought of his help. I nodded as I brushed the slick bangs from Nero's closed eyes. "Please be well, Son," I said. He slept on, his lips blue, his cheeks splotched red.

As soon as Father slipped away, they were already far from my reach, vanishing from my sight within moments. Without them there, I could no longer force myself to feign any stability. Two limped steps were all I could manage before I had to grasp a tree for support. Coughing sent blood and that strange tar spilling from my lips. My demanding pulse made my entire body throb with pain. The best I could do was drag myself from tree to tree, but my own weight pressed down on me. Every breath rattled like a damaged engine.

I didn't last long. My bad knee gave out on me after one too many steps. I fell as though someone had kicked me down. All I could think was how cold the snow was going to be when I smashed my face into it.

A hand latching onto my arm saved me the humiliation. "Hey, the ground is a pretty rough place to sleep, you know. I wouldn't recommend it," my brother chirped by my ear.

Actually, having Dante hook my arm around his neck to help drag me home like a drunk was more humiliating somehow. But then again, it was a relief to see him able to stand and smirk with that usual cocky expression once again. Instead of a shirt, he wore bandages speckled with blood around his chest. My idiot brother was always looking for an excuse not to wear a shirt under his coat. I breathed a laugh at the thought.

"Are you losing it?" he asked. Despite his best attempts to help me walk, my feet dragged.

"You're alright," I said. "That's good."

"Oof, wow, you really have lost it."

"The angel is dead." My eyes kept falling shut against my will. The landscape tilted and doubled in front of me the more I tried to find focus. "Nero is… He's not well. He has to recover, Dante. He has to. It's all my fault. All of this is my fault. I should have-"

"Easy, Verge, easy," he breathed. "Nero's a tough kid. Takes after his dad. You need to get some rest. When was the last time you got any sleep, huh?"

"Sorry." I wasn't sure why I was apologizing, but I couldn't think straight enough to do much else. No part of my body would listen anymore. I was far too heavy, far too weak. I couldn't even protest as Dante pulled me onto his back. It was just like the time I'd hurt my foot when we were small. He'd carried me home, saying everything would be fine despite my crying. How childish.

"It's alright," he said as though reading my thoughts. "You've carried me plenty of times too."

Perhaps that was true, and if nothing else, being able to rest against my head against his shoulder was comforting. As long as Dante was there smiling, everything had to be alright.

Sleep fell heavy around me as soon as I gave in to it.

Moving still felt impossible as consciousness returned. Gravity must have increased tenfold because even breathing was a fight against a weighted pressure. Without opening my eyes, I could tell that I was in a bed because of the warm weight of one of Mom's afghans. The blankets had brought feeling back to my fingers, and my nose no longer stung from frost. Though my body still ached with the dull throbbing of someone who had used too many vital stars, I found myself able to move without feeling as though I might pass back out at any moment.

Moving also let me feel the bandages and gauze sticking to me from old blood. I needed a shower immediately, but I realized I wouldn't be getting one any time soon as I opened my eyes. My struggle to breathe was no fault of my body's, it seemed. Nero slept on top of my chest. Reaching up a sluggish hand, I found his face still far too warm. Bandages were wound around his arms, and a patch of gauze stuck to his cheek. I knew he would wear his wounds longer than I did. I could only hope nothing left a lasting scar. The less permanent reminders he had of this, the better.

Despite his injuries, his back rose and fell with slow, even breaths, and he was drooling on my shirt. All the signs of comfort - I couldn't bring myself to be annoyed at that. He may not have healed yet, but he would be alright. The relief was enough that even his weight no longer troubled my breathing.

"Nice to see you awake."

My eyes flicked to their corners to find Father standing in the doorway. I found that someone had been nice enough to put me back in my own room. Father showed no sign of injury or pain, but he never did. He was always quick to hide his troubles.

"Good to see you too," I said. Despite my graveled voice, he smiled.

"Just so you know, Nero wouldn't stop asking for you. He was quite insistent, so I brought him to see you, and he's been out ever since."

I couldn't fathom why Nero would have asked for me out of all of us. Perhaps he was still delirious, but I was thankful regardless. "How long has it been?" I asked.

"Not long."

I didn't believe that for a moment, and I believed it even less when I looked out my window to find night looming outside. I'd been out a while.

"Do you know how Nero is?" I asked as I brushed my fingers through my son's hair and the many knots that had managed to form. Nero didn't stir no matter how many tangles I tugged free.

"He'll recover," Father said. "He was… in poor shape, but your mother has learned to patch up anything from dealing with all of us. You know how she is." His smile wavered as he winced against some present pain or the memory of one. "Nero didn't expel the poison from his blood like the rest of us. I suppose his healing just isn't that strong. Perhaps when he grows older, but… I'm glad he did not wake while we had to drain his blood of it."

"I'm glad I wasn't awake either." Having to see my son cut open sounded like hell. I wasn't sure I could have done it myself. Father's reluctance to let me bleed myself dry for that spell suddenly made more sense.

"How's Dante?" I asked for a change of subject.

"Your brother is in better shape than you are, I suppose." Father's head tilted along with his smirk. "But he still sleeps like the dead. He's sleeping in the guest room for now."

"Mom?"

He hesitated, struggling for words as his brow pinched. "We… owe her a great deal of comfort after this. She has been through an ordeal of her own, but she is stronger than the rest of us in her own way. She will be alright. She might also kill us. I'm not certain yet."

Laughing hurt. The best I could do was wheeze, which was enough to let me know where all my mending wounds were located. "Oh, I'm certain she will," I said. "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Don't play dumb. I know you too well. How are your wounds, Father? Not even you heal from that much damage so quickly"

He laughed, tossing up his hands with a shrug. "Ah, you've caught me then. I do mend faster than the rest of you, but the burns were the worst of it. I still look quite the mess under my clothes. The less I come into contact with divine things, the better. After you went into the cave, J was quick to notice and lost interest in me, but I could only drag myself through the snow at first. I'm sorry I left you alone with them."

I shook my head as I set to work reminding my legs how to work. "Enough apologies for today. What's done is done. You did what you could, Father." My damaged knee resisted movement entirely, and I found it bound with a splint as I pulled the covers back. It had been some time since I'd needed any sort of cast. Father strode over to help me find my feet. He didn't offer to take Nero this time. He must have known better because I was content to hold my son for a while, even if he kept drooling on my shirt.

Though Father's limp wasn't as pronounced as mine, I still noticed the drag in his step as he walked at my side down the hall. The door to Nero's room was closed, and I imagined it would be for some time. With the window broken, snow would drift in among the blood spatters and shattered glass. I would have to collect his things before the snow melted. If his workbooks were soaked, all those stickers he'd plastered on them would be as well.

The door to the guest room was open. Mom lay curled at an awkward angle in the reading chair in the corner. Even while asleep, her brow remained furrowed with worry. "She was also supposed to be asleep in our room," Father murmured as he stepped past me to collect her in his arms. She roused with a grumble as he settled himself back in the chair with her cradled against him, but her discontent slipped away as she rested her head against his shoulder and faded back to sleep.

Somehow, my brother slept with his face smothered in a pillow. I was uncertain how he didn't kill himself that way. Considering his string of luck, he may have been immortal. A very unlucky immortal. His coat hung on a bedpost, allowing me to see the edges of the wound along his back from beneath the bandages. The damage looked like it could have been more agonizing than any of my injuries individually, yet he slept on the worst of it and snored into his pillow.

"What an idiot," I sighed even as I sat on the bed beside him. I'd already expended what little energy my body had, and Nero was heavy against my aching shoulder. The bed was big enough even with my brother stretched out and tangled in the blankets, so I settled Nero between us and let myself lie down for a while longer.

Along with Dante's muffled snores, I listened to everyone breathe and rested my fingers to Nero's bandaged wrist to feel the steady heartbeat beneath. For a rare moment, I felt that we were all safe.

Just as I began to doze, Dante woke with an exaggerated yawn and a stretch that halted when he jolted in pain. "Ah, fuck," he hissed.

"Could you not?" I asked.

When he cracked an eye open to find me and Nero there, a grin broke out across his face. A hand dropped to my head to ruffle my hair into worse of a mess than it already was. "Aw, did you come to check on your little brother?" Dante crowed. "How sweet."

"No, I came to finish you off."

Undeterred, his knuckles squished into his cheek, his elbow on the pillow to hold him more upright. "Yeah-yeah, in a minute. I think I want some of those leftover pancakes first. Haven't eaten in ages."

"I don't see how you can think of eating. Food sounds horrifically unappealing."

"Yeah? Well, I didn't get jabbed in the gut."

Before I could mouth off that he was too busy trying to have his heart destroyed for the hundredth time, Nero's pulse sped up against my fingers. His breathing followed suit, frantic gasps for air as his eyelids twitched with the sure sign of a nightmare. "Nero," I called, curling my hand around his shaking fingers. "Wake up. You're alright. You're safe."

"Yeah, we've got you now, Kid," Dante said, his smile fading.

Nero woke with a start, his eyes wide with panic and glossy with tears. My first bad experience with a demon had given me nightmares that lasted months, and Nero had been through worse. I feared the memory would eat at him for some time. For now, all I could do was put my arms around him and pull him close once again. "You're safe, Nero," I said. "You're home. Dad's here."

Nero's stuttering breaths slowed with effort, his fingers curling into the front of my shirt even as he pushed himself back to look at me. The fever still had his eyes glazed like stained glass, and he blinked slow. "You can go back to sleep," I said. "Get some rest. I'll be here."

A small hand pressed to the side of my face. Nero hummed, studying me as though to make sure I was real; then he turned back and did the same to Dante, patting his hand to my brother's cheek. Dante broke into another smile. "Hey, kid. I'm doing alright."

"Dad and Uncle are okay," Nero mumbled in assurance to himself before settling back down. "S'okay."

"Yes, we're fine," I said.

"All good," Dante agreed.

One small hand remained curled in my shirt even as he slipped back into a doze. Though Dante was still hogging all the blankets, my heart beat with a firm warmth that reached my fingertips and toes.

I pressed a kiss to the top of Nero's head.

"Not that I know anything about classical music or whatever, but that was awful by any standard, right?" Dante said, still stretching his back after an hour of complaining about the seats in the orchestra hall.

Mom smacked the back of his head. "Don't say that! The kids worked very hard."

"Oh, it was dreadful," I agreed, already braced for my turn at being hit.

"They… tried," Father said with his usual condescending smile. Mom hit him as well for good measure.

"You're all terrible! Nero sweetie, I think you and the other kids did very well."

Frowning, Nero shook his head. My violin case bounced on his knees as he rocked on his feet. "No, it was bad. I think everyone was nervous. Usually not that bad."

"Still bad though, right?" Dante asked. Mom grabbed his ear and tugged. "Ow ow ow!"

The boy whom I'd never seen before without his hooded jacket ran up to Nero. The two just about matched - collared shirts and slacks and bright white hair. I chose not to dwell on it too much. The past was best left where it lay.

"Wow, wasn't that so bad?" Drew laughed, his bark as loud as his out-of-tune trumpet had been.

"It was!" Nero said, flashing a grin.

Mom sighed.

"Oh, Drew, this is my family." Nero pointed up to us, and Drew waved.

"Hi, Nero's family. You're very tall." That was all he cared to say to us before turning back to Nero. "Did you know there's cake? We get cake!"

"We get cake!?"

"Oh, it's just what they need. Sugar," I said under my breath. But, when Nero's pleading eyes turned to me, I had to shrug. "Go on. Give me the violin."

As he settled it in my hands with a moment's anxiety like the instrument might shatter even within the case, Mom began fumbling in her purse. "Oh, wait!" she said. "Nero, here."

She handed him a few pale blue envelopes with names scrawled on one side in Nero's best attempt at penmanship. "Go have fun for a bit," I said. "But not too much cake, alright?"

Nero nodded, his smile infectiously bright as he took the envelopes. "What's those letters?" Drew asked as the two of them darted off toward the table covered in cake and little cups of juice. Nero's joy sounded over the clamor of the crowd.

"It's invitations to my birthday party!"

Whew boy, that's enough sap to last me for weeks. Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you feel up to leaving me a comment, that's super rad, and I really appreciate it. I'm planning a couple sequels for this fic, so if you want to keep up with updates on that, you can follow me at BlueThorneFics on tumblr. I mostly post bad jokes, though, honestly.

P.S. Drew isn't actually an OC. Bonus points if you know what he's from.