Backstage Jitters

[madimpossibledreamer]

I didn’t think about it but I’ve taken some cues writing this series from Devil Summoner. I’d always planned on a loyalty system, but didn’t think about the SMT:DS implications. (Also, the Dresden Files stuff I kind of know, given the whole Friendly Cop thing, shared with Angel, but thinking more concretely about it helped me figure out what I was doing; though most of that has to do with the fact that I’ve sufficiently leveled my DMC OC for him to start goofing off. Puts me in the writing mood.) (And maybe the DMC5 trailer with V who I still know next to nothing about and want to keep it that way until I play.)

Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Xander gets ready for the big showdown.
Word Count: 1235
Rating: Teen

          They all agree that somewhere which is not home would be the ideal location for meeting her.  They’ve agreed on a hiking spot after a lot of debate (he’d been leaning toward one of the other abandoned buildings in the city, since there are more places to hide, but there is a copse of trees within view, and he can’t argue with Buffy that if the fighting brings the place down on their heads it would be a problem).  It takes some debate, but finally Giles grudgingly allows him to call and leave a message for Alisha at the Gold Rush, specifically what they’re doing if not where.  He calls Elaine Wellington and lets her know that he has results, but wants to meet her somewhere where her brother wouldn’t expect—she doesn’t sound suspicious, though she sounds a bit confused about the location, but if Tristan’s telling the truth, she’s a pretty good actress.  He’s actually going to let the Fae know—and Giles dislikes that idea so much less (Xander suspects Giles thinks this is at the very least a double-cross and is looking forward to the chance to destroy them—sometimes he’s more demon than the demons he knows).  All the people in one place.  He’s just that much more worried about sending Gjallar now, knowing that it’s probably actually the woman who’s hired him who’s the problem, but she reads his mood because she attaches herself to his shoulder and is very cuddly as he paces around his room.  It feels like it’s arsenal time, but at the same time he doesn’t want to give away the game, so the best choice is probably to give his Devil Arms to someone else, until the necessary moment, and hopefully this plan doesn’t end in another Stabbing Incident.
          “I’ll be fine, Master.  I can take care of myself.  I’ve already had a nice snack of Shaede, and can also report that the cursed object is not found within her room—or that of the Fae.  Even if it’s practically dormant when not being used, I know what I’m looking for.”  She feels him freeze, just a little, because she rubs her face against his, stooping to do so due to her size.  “There were Shaede, Master.  Of course there was something cursed.  The whole place stinks of that, though the perfume of Fae at least took the edge off.  I’d say it was used on the estate at least twice, and someone who lives there is keeping the object on them at all times.”
          “I didn’t even sense the Shaede.  If it’s that obvious, there should’ve been an army around.” That’s the part that’s bothering him the most, of this whole thing.
          She grooms his hair a little more—which honestly he really needs to cut again; it’s getting in his eyes.  “It is that obvious, Master, and there was, but while you share an element with them, they were below your perception threshold—think background radiation and a Geiger counter.  You need more training, and I’m not sure how much your human half affects it.  Of course, Shaede also become less easy to perceive when they sense a curse, and they’re using, hmm.”  She cocks her head, settling on the desired terminology.  “They slightly phase out of reality, which is, as far as I know, not one of your strengths.”
          He narrows his eyes, a suspicion growing.  “Did you know I was half-Pashran?”
          “Are you?”  She doesn’t sound particularly surprised.  “I suspected, Master.  I didn’t know, and didn’t want to say anything in case I was wrong.  A vargr would’ve been sure.  You’ve wanted the truth for so long, I wasn’t sure if it would break you to have a lead that went nowhere.”
          At his broken silence, she wriggles her body even closer.
          “I’ve never dealt with a half-human before.  Your heritage means you’re physically stronger than demons and many devils, but I didn’t know about the resilience of your heart.”  Oddly enough, that’s the second person today who’s said something along those lines.
          “Does it make me weak?” he asks quietly.  He doesn’t think so, but he’s still trying to deal with the day’s revelations, and he wants to know how the others view him.
          She suddenly rustles her wings, and her voice confirms she’s upset.  “Oh, Master, no.  It’s a gift.  You’re the nicest Master I’ve ever had, and Hellravens are choosy about their Masters.  You could view us as mere weapons to be used, but you pay attention.  You try to give us treats, incentivize us to behave.  You see our favorite techniques and try to use them.  Humans and demons are equal in your eyes; it’s what we do, who we choose to become, that matters.  And if we ever are in danger, you worry.”  She rubs his cheek again.  “Of course, some, such as those glass Nebirahl cultists,” she clicks her beak, “…see your humanity, your compassion as a weakness.  Despite having beaten them thoroughly, they continue to see life in such a vulgar manner.  I doubt they’ve met any of the fully human demon hunters, or their worldview would fall apart.”
          He smiles and abruptly realizes he’s crying.  Even odder, she leans over and licks up the tears.  He’s used to her attempting to groom him like he’s another bird, normally, but this has never happened before.  “I had the feeling they’d be trouble.”  But it’s not like he’s got a vault he can just lock them in, either.
          “’m surprised you needed it repeated, Master.”  He’d half expected Kryvi to just pop in at some point, and is honestly kind of shocked it took this long.  “Told ya when we met, yah?”
          “It’s easy to get isolated when you’re on your own,” he responds, and giggles slightly as the ghost steps forward to hug them both.  Warm, comforting.
          “We’ll just have to look after you too, Master,” Anzai adds, cheeky and playful.
          “He’s hopeless on his own,” Yachi agrees, disapproving, but for once he thinks he hears just a hint of a fondness in the tone.
          “Protect Master,” Kalvul agrees, rage still bubbling beneath the surface.
          As expected, the glass daggers attempt to join the conversation with something disparaging, but they’re so muffled by the Gideon that it’s nothing more but inaudible murmurs in the wind.  There are advantages about old abandoned hotels, such as easy access to a ton of Bibles, even if the way he’s using them isn’t exactly what the Gideons International had in mind.  Instead, he can just hear the agreement, ranging from mere respect to love to…whatever the hell Arawn’s “Stop moping and let’s destroy some fools” is supposed to be.  (Encouragement.  Probably.  Guns from the Underworld are a little…weird, even by Devil Arm standards.)
          “And you weren’t abandoned,” Gjallar continues, even as the rest continue to speak, adding to the chorus.  “Pashran don’t abandon children.  If they don’t keep them, they make sure that another of their family fosters the child.  A half-human child would not be seen as a disappointment, but a fascination.  The only conclusion is that, for some reason, your father was unable to do so.”
          Something clicks into place, and he instantly feels more settled.  “All right; time to get to work, everyone.”
          And then has to spend a little time calming them down from cheering to get them to listen to the plan.