Disclaimer: Don't own D.N.Angel.


Daisuke swung his legs back and forth, the bed springs creaking under his weight. His brother scratched his purple hair, staring out their window.

The silence was uncomfortable, like the ones that had happened all those years ago when they were ten. Daisuke gulped, blushing. "So . . . To-To really did that, huh?"

Dark glanced at his brother. "Oh, she did much more than that. I swear she was trying to molest me," he said, leaning back in his chair with that 'oh-so-casual' air of his.

Daisuke fell over.

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO CALM ABOUT THIS?"

Dark winked. "It's in my blood."

Daisuke mumbled, "Yeah, right. Mom and Dad are really calm about anything," a glare, "and everything," the glare got worse.

Dark sweat-dropped. "Um, yes, Dad is."

Daisuke sighed, letting the fire die out. (Dark breathed out a huge sigh of relief that he faked as a cough.)

"Yeah, well, I just hope we can go downstairs soon. I mean, putting together a birthday party doesn't take that long, does it? And wh-" Daisuke frowned, growing concerned. "Are you okay, Dark?"

Dark, having choked on the fake cough and started coughing for real, snagged for his last threads of dignity. "Oh, yes." He cleared his throat. "Quite all right." He breathed deeply. "Now, what were you saying?"

"Hu-? Oh, right. And why do they bother setting up a surprise party? We already know who's coming, what time it is, and all the decorations. WE WERE THE ONES WHO PICKED THEM OUT YESTERDAY!"

Dark sighed, wondering how his brother could be so moved to anger just by thinking of their birthday. "It's not the present, it's the way it was given. What thought was put into it." Dark nodded to himself. Yes. That sounds like that proverb-crap that always calmed Daisuke down.

"But a party isn't a gift, per se," Daisuke shot back, determined to be in a bad mood to make Dark feel bad and buy him lunch the next day.

Or not.

Now Dark felt bad, not knowing how "Evil Daisuke" worked, not seeing that side of his brother enough.

"Look, I'm sor-"

BANG- CRASH

The boys froze, glancing at each other and at the door. That . . . didn't sound good.

Daisuke sprang from the bed, dashing for the door on silent feet, pulling it open and breaking the lock from the door. Dark ran after (wondering how the hell Daisuke broke steel). "Daisuke, stop!" he whispered/yelled, sliding on the tile. Daisuke didn't stop, but continued for the door, reaching it just as it burst open to slam him against the wall.

Dark skidded to a standstill, staring wide-eyed at the intruder. He was dressed in black, gun in hand, no distinguishable features.

The man seemed surprised to have something blocking the door, and the gun dropped to the ground as he stared at the boy he'd crunched into the wall. "What the-" He froze. He didn't talk again, simply lunged to the ground, grabbing for the metal, but . . . that allowed Dark to see behind the man.

It was their mother, still sitting on the couch, but hands spread along the table to, he thought, stop herself from falling. He looked at her red hair, then at her even redder clothes. Mom. . . .

The burglar, by that time, had raised the gun a little bit, trying to aim higher than Dark's feet. Dark glanced to the side, even then retaining some of his sanity.

There was Daisuke, opening his red eyes blearily, blood running down his face and into his mouth.

There was a line between death and pain. Death he could handle. Pain he couldn't. He turned narrowed eyes onto the man in front of him who was up to his kneecaps now.

Dark was a nice guy. A pervert, yes, but he could control himself when he wanted to (Not that he ever actually wanted to. . . .) He never cried for his own losses, letting other people use him like a wall to hold them up. He never played pranks that actually hurt people or got in the way of their studying (his brother did not count). In fact, he'd never gotten mad more than two times in his life! (Hey, those bullies were beating on Daisuke!)

Did he get annoyed? Of course! Did he beat people up for fun? The guys, sure! But. . . .

He'd never been this angry before.

That guy never had a chance.