I was fully aware that once my eyes opened, any dream that had played out behind them had been nothing but my imagination. Dreams weren't real. They were never real. But I couldn't shake the thoughts until I proved them wrong.

During the days Nero was gone, before I knew anything, I would go to his room and stand just outside the doorway. My irrational thoughts said that perhaps he might be there like always if I just checked again. And again.

Now that I had him back, my torment was the opposite. I'd dream that we'd lost him again. He was gone, and his room was empty just as it had been all those times I'd checked. I'd jolt awake in a dazed panic, my shirt damp with sweat, and throw off the blankets. Even as my reason returned to me, I'd always have to step out into the hall and dart to his room to check. He usually didn't wake when I peered in, strong sleeper that he was.

This time was different. Rather than half-smothered in his pillow with the sound of deep breaths assuring me he was fine, I found him staring at the empty ceiling. His pale eyes almost seemed to glow from the soft yellow of the night light he insisted he was too old for yet flicked on all the same. He turned toward me without any surprise or confusion despite them both being apparent on my face.

"Can't sleep, Dad?"

"Uh… no."

He hummed, looking back up at the ceiling with a frown. "Me neither. I'm hungry. We should make pancakes."

Despite the exhaustion stinging at my eyes and my desperate need for a shower, I nodded. "That sounds good."

He seemed so calm, yet when he hopped out of bed, he raced toward me on his toes like he was scared of the span of darkness between us. Once he reached me, he wrapped his hands around my arm like a monkey clinging to a branch. He stayed that way even as we started walking toward the stairs.

"Do you often have trouble sleeping?" I asked.

"Yeah, sometimes I get bad dreams."

His words left my chest aching. "Me too. You know, you can always come talk to me if you need to or want to. It doesn't bother me if you wake me up."

"Yeah, I know." He huffed a sigh. "But I'm not a little kid anymore."

He was, but I stopped myself from saying it. "Sometimes even adults need someone to talk to after a nightmare. Or, I suppose if you just are hungry in the middle of the night, you can ask me for help with pancakes, but not too often, alright?"

"I am always hungry," he grumbled. It was true. He was trying to eat us out of house and home, but it was no surprise. Mom had to deal with two even more ravenous appetites when we'd been Nero's age.

From the top of the stairs, we could see that the kitchen light was on already. That had never been uncommon, especially when Dante had lived with us. Father would sit in the kitchen at times, studying cookbooks or searching for where Mom had hidden snacks from him. At times, I'd known Mom to creep down at night as well to knock back a glass of wine when she had trouble sleeping.

Lately, though, the quiet figure I could hear rusting around when I looked out from the top of the stairs was our very apologetic house guest. When we entered the kitchen, Credo's head jerked up from his hypnotic staring contest with a mug of coffee. "Oh, sorry," he said as he so often did. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, you're fine," I said. "We awoke on our own. It's a poor hour to be having coffee. Did you make more?"

He nodded and went to fetch me a mug without me having to ask. We'd run through this routine more than once, though never with Nero there. Credo was more honest at night, or perhaps, when his sister wasn't there to see him. Any reservations I'd held onto over having him in the house had steadily stripped away through nights of seeing his exhaustion. He kept making me promises no matter how I tried to tell him he didn't need to. "I'll get a job and find us a place soon," he'd say. "I don't mean to take advantage of your kindness, but everything here works so differently. I feel so far behind. I'm sorry."

Considering how dutifully he and Kyrie helped around the house, I had a feeling Mom wanted to keep them forever, but I understood his anxieties well. Going from independence to fully relying on others had left me feeling like a burden as well. The poor boy couldn't even put a resume to his name despite all his time worked.

Admittedly, he was nice company when the rest of the house was dark, and he made coffee well.

Nero always brightened up around both Fortunans, even now. "Credo, we're gonna make some pancakes. Do you want some?"

"Oh, um, sure. That sounds good."

"Great! I can make more."

I suppose, if I were honest, I didn't want the Fortunans gone quite yet either.

Nero was quite content to do all the mixing and pouring, only ordering us around to grab needed ingredients. Once the air started to smell warmly of bubbling batter, Father appeared as expected. "A strange time for pancakes," he said with a smile that proved he was quite happy about them regardless.

From his perch seated on the counter, Nero smacked the flat of the spatula against his hand despite also touching the pancakes with it. "I knew you would come, Nonno, so I made enough batter for you too, but you have to wait your turn."

"Of course. I am just happy you thought of me, little one."

Father's arrival also brought out the usual stress from Credo, the boy's eyes forcibly in the corner and his mug held like a shield between the two of them. I wasn't sure I would have known how to respond to seeing a god either, but no one was less god-like than my father. Seeing the boy's distress, Father stepped closer despite Credo's attempt to press himself through the cabinets and patted the boy on the head. "You're always up so late, Credo," he said, confirming all my suspicions that he'd been hiding around the darkness to spy on us. "You needn't stress so much, or Eva might start putting those sleep aids in your food."

Startled, Credo looked to me to see if this was one of Father's attempts at a joke.

"She's been known to do that," I said over the rim of my mug. "The alchemical ones she makes will really put you out."

Father nodded along with a smile. "Once Vergil was so stressed about his college exams that he hadn't slept in days, and-"

"You don't need to tell people this story, Father."

"-Eva gave him just a dash, and he fell asleep on the table."

"Wow," Nero said, the stack of finished pancakes still growing at his side. "Dad went to college?"

I wasn't sure whether to be more offended that he didn't know that before or that it was the only part of the story to surprise him. My attempts to explain that I had a master's degree were wholly lost on him because he didn't understand why there kept being schools after graduation.

Once the stack of pancakes teetered on excessive, we sat down to an odd form of breakfast. I ate even though I didn't feel hungry because the recipe always tasted of a nostalgic, calm day and because Father would have stolen them off my plate if I hadn't.

Though almost three months had passed since we left Fortuna, I still found relief in seeing Nero relaxed. While he ate, he let himself swing his feet and listen to another of Father's stories without looking over his shoulder. Even in the house, he often tensed and glanced around at any odd noise. It was much like when he'd first come home as an underfed child, and again after his encounter with the angel.

I wasn't sure if the years would heal him this time, or even if he'd be given enough years without another horror. Perhaps, given our blood, his caution was for the best. But that didn't make me hate it any less. I'd failed to protect him from the worst of the world just as Father had been unable to shield us.

Hearing Nero tell of the man whose life he ended had been far more painful than I could have predicted. He'd spent much of the trip home curled against my side and shaking. His words were staggered whispers between sobs that he kept equally quiet.

The man Nero spoke of sounded vile, the sort I'd feel nothing in having cut down - human or demon. Nero shouldn't have ever needed to raise a sword against someone like that. I would have been content to kill anyone or anything in his place, but I couldn't always stand in front of him. As much as it pained me to imagine it, Nero would likely grow to become as used to killing demons as the rest of us. I had to train him in swordplay for that reason, just as Father had trained us.

I didn't know what to tell him when he cried over killing someone because I didn't remember how that felt anymore. I wasn't sure which was worse.

I must have sat staring off in silence and debating the merits of hiring Credo as a full-time bodyguard for Nero for some time because Father clapped to summon my attention along with everyone else's. "What is the typical course of action after the coffee and pancakes? Do you sleep now?"

Nero frowned at the suggestion. "I'm not tired. Can we watch TV?"

I should have told him no. Any responsible parent would have, but we all ended up splayed out on the couches under the too-bright glow of the TV. Nothing was on at that time of night, and the volume was so low that we couldn't hear anything beyond a distant hum of conversation from the infomercial for unnecessary plastic containers.

Nero fell asleep against my arm within a few minutes, and my arm followed him shortly after. I could never have moved despite the feeling of needles in my hand. Dad tossed a blanket over him for me and another over Credo when the boy finally passed out against the arm of the sofa.

I found another blanket on me when I woke to sunlight beaming in through the windows and Kyrie smacking a hand against Credo's shoulder. "You know you have a bed upstairs, right?" she said.

"I just really love waking up with a crick in my neck," Credo mumbled, his eyes remaining closed. "Is it time for breakfast? Do you want me to make something?"

"Nah, it's almost lunchtime."

Credo shot upright, his unbrushed hair flattened on the side he'd been laying. "It's that late!? I really need a shower."

Come to think of it, I did too, but Nero was still dozing against my deadened arm. Once Credo had raced upstairs, I noticed the digital clock under the TV. "It's actually only ten, Kyrie."

"I know, but it was funnier this way." She flashed a mischievous grin.

"Sometimes I wonder why your brother is so anxious all the time, and then you answer all my questions."

She stuck her tongue out at me. Most children seemed intimidated by my mere presence, but Kyrie was not one of them. She must have heard too many stories from Mom. "I'm not mean to him. I just gotta do some jokes sometimes, or he gets all gloomy. He doesn't have anything to do today anyway, so I don't know why he's all worried."

He was likely worried because he had nothing to do, but I wasn't going to tell Kyrie as much. Mom appeared from upstairs in her worn work clothes and with goggles hanging around her neck. Kyrie ran up and took another pair from Mom's hand. "Oh, you got the boys up," Mom said. "Well, almost all of them. Vergil, make sure your brother is awake at some point today. I'm not letting him miss board game night again. I know he doesn't have a job tonight."

"If I get him here, can I miss board game night?"

"No. If you try to weasel out of it too, I'm going to make the two of you sit alone and play Snakes and Ladders on repeat all night Or maybe Candy Land."

"He cheats," I reminded her, scowling.

"They're children's games. Cheat back. I don't care."

It wouldn't have been as hard to get ahold of him as before. He almost always answered my calls now, for better or for worse. As long as I made Nero be the one to ask him to come over, he wouldn't say no.

Not long after Mom disappeared along with her new frightening assistant, Credo returned in clean, pressed dress clothes that I was pretty sure no teenager should have worn willingly. I was also pretty sure I used to wear the same things as a teenager. "That demon that hates me is outside chasing squirrels around," he said as he straightened his cuffs.

"The one that hates you? Oh, Thuban? I guess that means Drew isn't far off."

Nero's head popped up, eyes bleary. "Hm? Drew?"

"That's what wakes you up?" I asked, though in reality, it must have been the presence of the boy who barreled in through our front door. I was pretty sure it had been locked seconds before.

"Nero! I traded a really cool rock for a neat ring, and then I traded that for a flashlight that changes colors. Do you wanna see?"

"Yes!" Nero drew out the word as he scrubbed at his eyes, trying to rub away the sleep left in them. As Nero slipped from the couch to his bare feet, Drew turned his gaze to Credo with a piercing distrust. Credo kept staring at his cuffs as though they weren't already buttoned.

Drew's annoyance was only matched by that of my brother as he too appeared in the doorway. "Hey, give me back my keys."

"Oh, you brought him then?" I asked. At least I knew Drew hadn't learned to pick locks along with his other unsavory habits.

"Yeah," Dante grumbled. "Kid would not leave me alone."

Drew showed no remorse. "It's board game night. You were gonna come here anyway."

"You have a whole dragon for transportation. I'm not your chauffeur. Kids your age shouldn't be coming near my shop anyway."

"Thuban doesn't like to have to carry me. Besides, people get real freaked out when they see him, so had has to take the long way."

"He got here before us," Dante grumbled. "Anyway, give me back my keys."

As stressful as I found Drew at times, it was admittedly entertaining to watch Dante have to deal with someone as difficult as himself. Drew threw the keys back without looking while he showed Nero the new trinket he'd come to possess for the week. Nero always looked at them like he'd never seen anything like it before. Drew always looked like he'd spent the last several hours rolling around in the dirt to get it.

I had a feeling that Mom invited him over for board game night just to make sure he washed his hands before he ate dinner. Surprisingly, Thuban would also stick its claws in the sink when she requested this.

"Hey, Verge, whose turn is it to pick the games?" Dante asked.

"Kyrie's. She requested Monopoly."

"She knows that's banned from the house, right?"

"Yes. I think that's why she asked for it."

"Sorry," Credo mumbled, his hand covering his mouth. "She just likes, uh-"

"Chaos?" I offered.

"I was going to say surprises, but yeah. I think she's just excited to have a family again." A heated red colored his ears as he started to stammer. "I mean, uh, a big family to be around. That's not- You know what I meant." Both of his hands came to cover his face as Dante laughed.

"Nah, give it up, Credo. You're stuck with us now. You think Mom's ever going to let you leave with how good your cooking is? If it really came down to it, she'd swap me for you. I'd bet on it."

"There's no need for swapping," Father said as he appeared behind me. I had no idea where he'd come from, and his voice made Credo jump, but I was too used to him to be startled. "We have plenty of room for all of you to be my children or grandchildren."

"Ew," Drew said, his nose wrinkled.

Father's attempt to hide his obvious hurt was lacking. "Young Drew is respectably excused from being a child of mine but welcome to change his mind at any time."

"Father, you're making it weird," I said. "Credo, you don't have to say you're part of our family by any means. I know you have your own, but I doubt anyone would care if you did. Now then, this topic is officially closed."

I knew better than to think that would work. Silence held for no more than two seconds before Nero turned to his friend. "Credo's my family now, so you have to be nice to him."

"Ugh, fine."

"Um," Credo broke in louder than necessary, his blush having spread to his cheeks. "I should start on lunch then."

I felt bad being the one to crush his hopes for a distraction, but someone had to. "It's just past ten actually."

"Ah… so it is."

We only managed another bout of silence because Dante was biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Hey," Drew cut in. "I like lunch at ten."

"Me too," Father chirped.

"Lunch is good all the time," Nero agreed. Credo nodded along as he took his chance to wander into the kitchen. Nero and Drew tailed at his heels, asking after a variety of dishes.

Dante turned to me looking like he might cry from holding back his laughter. "Do you think we should tell them that brunch is a thing?"

"No, I don't need those boys getting any ideas."

Unfortunately, Father had not left yet. "What's a brunch? I like the way it sounds."