A/N: Hello everyone! Due to popular demand, I decided to write a sequel to my story "Pity". If you're new here and like this, and want to check out the prequel, by all means, go ahead and do so. This story might make more sense if you do. XD

To my returning readers, thanks for coming back. I hope this story lives up to its predecessor. The first few chapters here seemed to turn out more like a humor story, but that really couldn't be helped. I'm guessing Vincent and the three remnants living under normal conditions would be quite humorous.

So I'll quite talking. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters.

Pitiful - Chapter One

It was rather bright. The sun was coming in through the open window, filling the bedroom-filling it with light and warmth. The day was just beginning. The birds were out singing, the children were out playing. It was a beautiful summer day, of a summer that was just beginning. It told of life, of joy, of everything that was good.

Vincent Valentine laid on his bed, still too tired to figure out what exactly he was thinking. His tired eyes just stared out the open window, at the dull curtains that were moving in the soft breeze. He had no desire to move. Not yet at least. The usually hard bed felt oddly comfortable.

His dark hair fell haphazardly over his face as he lay there with it half buried in the pillow. His blanket was kicked aside, unneeded on this warm day. The thin clothes were enough for him-he didn't need his cloak, or the leather he usually wore, or his boots or even his gloves. He'd even get rid of the gauntlet, if only he could. Cerberus was in its holster, hanging unneeded on a hook on the wall.

Everything about the moment was comfortable, casual, safe. There was no need for fear or caution. He decided that this would be the first day of utter peace, followed by many, many more...

What was that smell?

Vincent shot up out of bed, shattering all his incoherent, dazed thoughts and bringing him back to stark reality. Something was burning, and smoke was filling the house, sneaking into his room from under the crack in the door.

Instinct and his new-found feelings took over, pushing aside his fatigue. He jumped out of bed, quickly throwing open the door and running into the smoke-filled living room. He heard coughing, and among the screen of smoke-which was still thin enough to see through-he spotting the house's resident teenager.

Kadaj stood before the stove in the kitchen, waving his hand in the air in a futile attempt to get rid of the smoke.

"What are you doing?" Vincent demanded as he walked up to him, turning off the stove top and snatching the burning pan off it. He walked over to the sink and immediately threw it in, turning on the faucet and flooding it with water. It smoked and sizzled harshly, before quickly dying down.

Vincent's crimson eyes turned to the young remnant, who stood there with a guilty look on his face.

"What are you doing?" Vincent reiterated.

"I..." Kadaj started, averting his gaze from shame and embarrassment. "I was just trying to make breakfast."

Vincent sighed heavily. The danger averted, his fatigue suddenly came back to him. He leaned against the counter, looking at the boy with his usual flat stare. "I told you not to do that anymore." This wasn't the first time the remnant had almost caused a fire.

"But how am I ever supposed to learn?"

Vincent ran his hand down his face as he looked around the unusually empty house. "Just wait till I'm awake next time, alright?"

Kadaj didn't reply, but Vincent left the subject alone, too tired to try and pry a promise out of him.

"Where's Yazoo and Loz?"

Kadaj shrugged, looking a little annoyed as he tossed the spatula he had been holding into the sink. "I don't know...wherever they go."

"Don't tell me..." Vincent said.

"I don't know where Loz is. Somewhere nearby. Yazoo...he's probably at the usual again."

Vincent sighed again, pulling himself away from the counter. This wasn't really how he wanted to begin his summer. He longed to go back to bed, to fall back asleep and let his mind think all those delusional things it had been, before he was awakened.

But of course, he couldn't do that. He had a responsibility now.

He went back to his room and put on his boots, then grabbed Cerberus for good measure, and walked back out. He was in the midst of strapping the belt around his waist as he walked passed the lonely remnant.

"I'll be back in a minute. Don't burn anything else," he said, as he made his way to the door. He stepped out, leaving the youngest of the home alone.

The town of Nibelheim was already awake and tackling the day. The occupants of the small country town were going about their business. A few people he passed waved at him, offering him smiles and greetings. Vincent returned their waves and tried to look as friendly as possible, but he wasn't really in the mood to smile. Through most of the trek through town, he kept his head down, trying to avoid eye-contact with the more friendlier people he knew.

He had only one reason for being out here.

He finally looked up when he came to the local pub. He had no desire to be back in here...again.

At least in the morning hours the place was mostly deserted, so he didn't run into any drunken townsfolk. He opened the door and stepped inside, his eyes going to the counter. He had no need to look around the dim, empty place; he already knew where his quarry was located. But he figured he'd pay the barkeeper a visit first and see what damage had been done.

"Good morning, Mr. Valentine," the man said as he approached.

"What was it this time?" Vincent asked, not in the mood for small talk.

The man shrugged, continuing to wipe down the mug he held in his hand. "It was a group of five of them. He took them down pretty easily, as usual."

"Yeah," Vincent grumbled, "Just add any damages to my bill. I'll pay it at the end of the month."

"Actually," the keeper started as Vincent turned away, "he's getting better. He actually took them outside this time."

Vincent paused for a second to think about what he said, then continued on his original route. He made his way to the back of the bar, where a certain silver-haired male was sitting. He was alone at a table, his heavy eyes staring ahead at nothing. He only lifted his gaze when Vincent stood just before him. If he looked close enough, Vincent could notice that the remnant was minimally swaying back and forth.

"What was it this time?" Vincent asked.

"He hit on me," Yazoo replied simply.

"He hit on you?"

"Yes. And he grabbed me...where he shouldn't have grabbed me."

Vincent shook his head as he reached down, grabbing the remnant by the arm and helping him to his feet. "Where did the other four come in?"

"Friends of his, I guess. It's not my fault they all decided to join in."

"You know, you wouldn't have that problem if you didn't come out here every night," Vincent said as he led him to the door. They stepped outside in the bright light, Vincent letting go of his arm as he proved he could walk on his own.

"Then what am I supposed to do instead?" Yazoo asked.

"You could try sleeping."

The remnant scoffed, turning his gaze toward the direction of their home. Vincent watched Yazoo carefully as they walked.

For being someone who was completely drunk, Yazoo carried himself very well. By holding a conversation with him, no one would have really known. The only thing that gave his drunkenness away was the slight stagger in his walk. And even that was barely noticeable.

"How come Kadaj is the only one who stays home at night?" Vincent grumbled, more to himself than Yazoo.

"Give it a little time," Yazoo replied, "Pretty soon you'll have three very bored men on your hands."

Vincent glared at him, but didn't say anything else.

Within a few minutes, they were back home. Vincent led Yazoo in through the door to the kitchen, which was a little less burnt smelling.

Vincent froze in his tracks and stared at Kadaj crossly as the remnant stood in front of the stove, another pan on the burner. Several eggs were in the pan, sizzling at a moderate level. Kadaj didn't say anything, only stared at him with a defiant, smug look on his face.

Deciding he was too tired to get angry, Vincent simply led Yazoo over to the table and sat him down on one of the chairs. He scratched his unkempt black hair as he made his way back to his bedroom. He threw himself heavily down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

It had been five months now. Five months since he, and the three remnants, battled Sephiroth. Five months since he bought this house. Five months since he decided to become a surrogate father to the three of them.

He wasn't complaining. He never did. He didn't regret it. He never would. He cared for those three like they were his own, he had even come to love them.

He wasn't fooling himself either. They were who they were, and even if they were trying to change-to be better men-that wasn't easy.

Vincent trusted them. He was certain they would never intentionally hurt anyone-at least not without a proper reason to. They had no desire to fall back into their old ways and serve Jenova again, and Kadaj hated Sephiroth with a passion. But Vincent knew that old habits die hard, and the three of them weren't exactly model citizens.

Yazoo and Loz were always gone at night, even when they promised they wouldn't leave. Yazoo to go look for a fight at the bar, and Loz to do...whatever he did. At least he never came back with a bill of damages, or a story of men hitting on him.

Vincent almost considered nailing all the doors and windows shut. Almost. Not like that would stop them anyway.

Kadaj was surprisingly the most compliant of the three. But like Yazoo said, he could tell he was getting restless. He knew it was only a matter of time before the little brother found his own outlet.

As long as it wasn't cooking.

"Vincent!" Kadaj called from the kitchen.

Well, he would think about that another time. Right now, breakfast awaited. He rose out of bed one more time, to face another day.

A/N: Please review and tell me what you think. :)