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Chapter Text

The carriage rumbled down the dirt road towards Joestar Mansion, its single passenger leaning nonchalantly against the window. Dio watched the passing countryside with little interest, his mind occupied with plans and schemes. With that bastard Dario out of the way, he finally had a shot to do something with his life, to become someone. Outside the carriage window, the serene English countryside was unmarred by people passing by. 

Or so he thought.

Just up ahead, two boys were pummeling another into the ground, while a crying girl stood nearby. As the carriage passed closer, Dio could hear the two boys yelling at the one on the ground.

“You rich kids should play by yourself within your property!” the taller of the two boys shouted, giving the boy on the ground one last kick in the ribs, before running off, his friend close behind. Dio saw the beaten boy push away the weeping girl’s hand and wobble to his feet before the carriage rolled on, leaving the scene behind.

As the carriage pulled up in front of the Joestar Estate, Dio saw the boy from before, still bruised and bloody, about to enter the front gate. Dio tossed his suitcase onto the ground—it was mostly empty anyway—and leapt out of the carriage, landing on the ground beside them. He smirked at the shocked look on the boy’s face, before straightening up.  The boy—Jonathan Joestar, he presumed—held out his hand.

“So, you’re Dio Brando?” His face was kind and he seemed genuinely pleased to meet him. 

Disgusting.

“So,” Dio mimicked Jonathan’s tone. “You’re Jonathan Joestar.” 

Jonathan smiled.

“Everyone around here just calls me JoJo.” 

Dio opened his mouth to make a biting comment but closed it as he heard something quickly approaching from the side. 

A fuzzy brown blur headed straight for Dio and he jumped to the side, out of the object’s path. Jonathan, instead of jumping out of the way, knelt down and opened his arms to catch the speeding blur.

“Danny!” Jonathan cried in joy, laughing as what Dio now realised was a dog licked his face. The dog—Danny?—put its paws on Jonathan’s shoulders pushing him into the gravel of the driveway. Dio scoffed, turning away from the pair and heading towards the open gate of Joestar Mansion, suitcase in hand.

He froze, fast footsteps approaching him from behind. Instinctively, he dodged the expected blow, kicking at his assailant. He fought to keep his breathing under control, trying not to show the sudden fear that had gripped him.

A whimper from the ground brought him back to reality. Danny lay on the ground a few feet away. Dio’s throat constricted as Jonathan came running up to him. He hadn’t even entered the mansion and he had already caused trouble with his careless actions. He clenched his hands, desperately trying to think of something to say to keep his plan on track.

“Hey!” Jonathan ran to Danny, checking he was okay. “That was too much! What were you thinking?” The anger was clear in his eyes as he looked at Dio.

Dio swallowed and relaxed his fists.

“He shocked me by running up behind me. I apologise. Is he alright?” He managed to keep his cool, his voice sounding calm and collected, the way he’d hoped it would.

“He appears to be okay,” Jonathan said. “I’m sorry he ran after you like that, he gets excited around new people.”

“I see.”

“You must be tired, Dio! London is very far away,” Lord George Joestar greeted Dio just inside the mansion’s doors, a large smile gracing his face. He waved a hand to the side, gesturing at his son and the servants. “You will live like my son, JoJo. These are the household servants. You may be left here while I work, so they will take care of everything for you.”

Dio smiled at Lord Joestar, slightly bowing his head.

“I am highly thankful for the favours of the House of Joestar.”

“Nonsense! JoJo here also lost his mother and you’re the same age, so I hope you’ll get along well. You have plenty in common after all!” He turned and began to walk up the large central staircase. “Come, Dio, I’ll show you to your room.”

Dio turned to pick up his bag, noticing a strange stone mask hanging on the wall. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t place his finger on what it was. Shrugging, he reached for his bag only to see Jonathan had already picked it up.

“What are you doing?” Dio asked, making his voice as cold as ice.

“Eh?” Jonathan looked surprised. “I’m carrying your bag for you?”

Dio ground his teeth and snatched the bag out of Jonathan’s hand.

“I can do it myself. Besides, you have dog slobber on your hands.”

Jonathan looked hurt and confused, and for some reason, Dio felt bad. He shrugged the feeling away—after all, why should he feel bad for Jonathan?—and followed Lord Joestar up the stairs.

The white handkerchief was stained red with blood from Jonathan’s nose. 

Erina Pendelton sighed as she furiously scrubbed at the stains, her fingers red and swollen from the rough surface of the washboard. She missed the days when she hadn’t had to worry about things like washing, the days when there was someone else to take care of it. But those days were long gone. 

Now, Erina managed the house for her father without complaint. But she refused to spend the rest of her life as a poor doctor’s daughter. She was going to make something of herself, no matter what she had to do. She smiled down at the handkerchief, the bloodstains now gone thanks to her furious scrubbing. The embroidered name seemed to stare back up at her. She wrung the water from it, the pinkish water dripping into the bucket. 

Jonathan Joestar, she thought with a sly smile, you will make a fine husband. 

She tipped the bucket of dirty water onto the grass with a careless hand, and she entered the house, locking the door behind her.

Chapter Text

Erina Pendleton believed herself to be a practical young woman.

After her mother’s death and her father’s withdrawal into his work, she faced the world on her own.  She cooked breakfast for herself and her father, managing the house by herself. What spare time she had she spent wandering the countryside near the Joestar Estate, the doll her mother had left her close at hand. 

But she knew that this wasn’t the life she wanted. 

Even aged 12 she knew she was meant for more than the life of a poor unknown doctor’s daughter. So, when Jonathan Joestar threw himself into a fight for her sake, a plan appeared in her mind. 

The Joestar’s were minor nobles, with a substantial fortune. Jonathan was Lord Joestar’s only child—that meant there were no other heirs to meddle with succession. So, instead of fleeing the fight with her doll, she stayed, playing the innocent victim. She listened to Jonathan’s prattle about becoming a squire and smiled sweetly the whole time. She held onto his handkerchief, scrubbed it clean of bloodstains, and hung it out to dry by the fire. Now, she carried a basket of grapes, humming as she walked down the road towards the Joestar Estate. She’d waited until the same time she’d run into Jonathan the previous day before heading out, and before long, she spotted him playing with his dog in the distance.

Not wanting to be spotted, Erina approached slowly, under the cover of the trees. Jonathan was leaning back against a tree, while his dog chased its tail just a few feet away.  Softly, Erina placed the basket down beside him and quickly ran off, not making an effort to hide now. After all, she wanted him to know it was her. Sure enough, when she looked over her shoulder, Jonathan was holding the basket, staring at her retreating back, his handkerchief back in his breast pocket.

She smirked softly. All she had to do was play the shy girl in love and her plan would work out smoothly. 

Then, she met Dio Brando.

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Dio was confused. 

He had come to the mansion with a plan to steal the Joestar fortune from right underneath Jonathan’s nose. It was simple in theory—slowly break Jonathan’s spirit by taking away his friends and replacing him as the favoured son. 

However, Dio was stuck. 

Every time he hurt Jonathan’s feelings—he felt bad. It was quite an unfamiliar feeling. Dio hadn’t felt bad about any of the wrong he’d done in his life—not the petty thefts, the rigged card games, the pain he’d inflicted on others on the streets of London, and certainly not killing Dario. He firmly believed that each and everything he’d done had been justified, and the people who’d been affected had deserved every amount of pain they’d suffered. But, when he thought about slapping his bag out of Jonathan’s hand or kicking Danny, he felt regret in every bone in his body. For once in his life, he felt as though the people he was harming didn’t deserve it.

As he lay in his bed in his new room at Joestar Mansion, Dio began to doubt himself. George and Jonathan seemed like genuinely nice people, who would take in the son of a man such as Dario without a moment’s hesitation. He tossed and turned, his guilt refusing to let him get to sleep easily.

Eventually, his exhaustion got the better of his guilt and he passed into a fitful sleep. 

In the morning, he had come to a decision. He would put his plan on hold and observe the Joestar’s for a few weeks. If they were truly as they seemed, he wouldn’t go through with the plan. If they weren’t—well, a few weeks wouldn’t make much difference. It was a long term plan after all. He had time.

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It had been several days since Dio’s arrival at Joestar Mansion and so far, everything was just as it seemed. Lord Joestar took great care in accustoming Dio to life in the mansion. Dio had received several new set of clothes—all in the latest style—made from costly material. If he was ever confused about anything, George explained it in a kind, concise manner without making Dio feel as though he was ignorant. Dio found that he was beginning to view the kindly Lord as a father figure. 

Dio was even beginning to warm up to Jonathan. The kind-hearted boy brought a smile to the face of everyone in the mansion with his genuine nature. The two of them were tutored together and whenever Dio was lost, Jonathan was there to explain the concept to him. Despite Dio’s initial frustration at his lack of education, Jonathan was patient and never let him fall behind.

One evening, the two of them were working through a particularly difficult set of geometry sums together in the study, as had become their habit.

“I don’t understand this Jonathan,” Dio sighed, heels of his palms pressing into his eyes. “How come you can do it so easily? I followed the steps exactly and yet my answer is always wrong!” He groaned, whacking his head against the desk. 

“It’s okay Dio! It took me months to learn this concept and you’ve almost mastered it in just a few days!” Jonathan moved to pat his back encouragingly, but Dio jerked up straight and slapped the hand away. Jonathan quickly leaned back, hands spread palms up in front of him. 

Dio curled back into a hunched posture, eyes downcast.

“Sorry.” He muttered, picking up his pencil and starting the problem again.

Jonathan frowned, but moved his chair next to Dio’s and looked over the problem.

“Hmm, you’re right, this one is tricky…” he trailed off as he ran his finger down the page of equations. His finger stopped on one line and he read it over, lips moving silently in calculations.

He tapped the line.

“Here’s your problem. You’ve counted the area of the circle, but you don’t need to, see?” He pointed to the textbook. “Because the cylinder is on top of the cube, the second circle isn’t part of the total surface area, right?”

Dio looked over at the textbook and sighed. Jonathan was right. Muttering in frustration, he subtracted the circle’s area from the total sum. The new answer was correct.

He slammed his head against the desk again. He wanted to scream. Math was the worst. He settled for a loud sigh instead.

Jonathan chuckled at his exasperation.

“Don’t worry! That’s the first question you’ve been stumped on all day,” Dio could feel the blinding smile the boy was giving him even with his head squashed against the desk. He sighed again, turning his head to the side to look at Jonathan.

The other boy looked at him, expression thoughtful.

“Say, why don’t we take a break? Let’s go play in the fields for a bit.”

Dio nodded, pushing himself out of his chair, stretching his arms above his head.

“Why not?”

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 Jonathan was skipping stones across the river with a blond-haired boy when Erina shyly approached them. 

Internally, she cursed her luck—getting Jonathan alone was the best way for her plan to succeed. 

I can work with this , she thought, after all, this is a long term plan.

The blond boy was the first to notice her. He didn’t speak but nudged Jonathan, tilting his head towards her.

Jonathan turned and smiled at her.

“Erina! Its so good to see you again!”

She smiled bashfully, eyes downcast.

“But you just saw me yesterday, JoJo,” her voice soft and sweet.

“So that’s where you’ve been disappearing to the last few afternoons,” the blond boy said, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed despite the calculating look in his eyes. “I thought you just couldn’t stand my company.”

Jonathan looked mildly offended at that and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when the blond bowed and held out his hand.

“I’m Dio Brando, the Joestars have kindly taken me in after my family’s death,” She took his hand and he kissed it. “And what may your name be?”

“Erina Pendleton,” she answered in her most courteous voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dio.”

“The pleasure is all mine I assure you, Erina.” He turned back to the river, picking up a smooth stone, rolling it over in his fingers. “How many skips this time Jonathan?”

Jonathan hummed in thought, rubbing his chin.

“You managed six last time, so try for eight.”

“Nine it is then.” 

Dio nodded before flicking his wrist, sending the stone skipping across the river.

One skip, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. The stone skipped the exact distance Dio had specified before sinking into the water. 

Erina had to admit she was impressed. Nine skips were no mean feat, especially given that the distance from one river bank to the other was only a few meters. The stone had to have enough force behind it to skip multiple times without the skips being too far apart.

Jonathan obviously found it quite impressive as well, if his reaction was anything to judge by.

“Incredible!” He went to clap Dio on the shoulder but stopped himself. 

Interesting.  

“How are you so good at this Dio? It’s insane!” 

Dio smiled and shrugged off the praise.

“Practise, I suppose. How are you so good at geometry?”

Jonathan waved a hand dismissively.

“You only think I’m good at geometry because you didn’t see me last month,” the two boys laughed at that, and Erina felt rather ignored.

She was about to clear her throat to grab their attention when Dio spoke.

“Erina, do you want to play?” He held a smooth stone towards her, and Erina felt a plan hatch in her mind.

“I would love to, but,” she cast her eyes to the ground. “I don’t know how to skip stones.”

“That’s okay!” Jonathan smiled. “I can help you.”

Ha, the fool fell for it, Erina crowed internally. Of course I know how to skip stones!

“Thank you, JoJo!” Erina smiled her sweetest smile at him, taking the stone from Dio.

She stood at the riverbank, and Jonathan stood behind her, helping her hold the stone and get used to the arm movement. After a few purposefully bad throws, she ‘managed’ to get two skips.

“Well done Erina!” Jonathan cheered. “You’ll get the hang of it in no time!”

She smiled bashfully, thanking God for making Jonathan so gullible.

“Indeed,” Dio said, a small smile on his face. “But JoJo, what time is it?”

Frowning, Jonathan pulled out his pocket watch. He flipped open the case and his eyes widened and he hurriedly stuffed the watch back into his pocket.

“Sorry Erina, but we need to go,” He turned and picked his coat up from the ground, before turning to smile at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

Pushing down her annoyance, Erina nodded.

“Okay! Same spot as usual?”

Jonathan nodded as he ran off, following Dio who was already waiting on a nearby hill, gesturing impatiently.

Erina waved until they were out of sight, before huffing and stomping over to the river bed. She sat down roughly, picking through the stones beside her. Finding a suitable one, she tossed it at the river and watched it skip seven times before sinking.

Annoyed, she tried again, but this one only skipped 6 times.

Frustrated, she stood up, dusted her dress off and headed back to town.

She never noticed Dio watching from behind a tree.

Chapter Text

After dinner, Dio went and knocked on the door of Jonathan’s room.

“Jonathan, its me. Can I come in?”

There was a muffled sound of acknowledgement and the door swung open.

“What do you need, Dio?” Jonathan’s eyes were red from crying and his face was still stained with tears. 

“Nothing, I just—” He swallowed thickly. “I just wanted to talk to you. To apologise.”

Jonathan frowned.

“Why do you have to apologise? I was the one who spilt the wine.”

“Yes, but, your father, I didn’t mean to,”

Jonathan waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s fine.” He frowned again, as though considering something, then stepped aside to let Dio into his room. “Come in. It’s not bedtime yet, so let’s talk for a while.”

Dio nodded and followed Jonathan into the room. They both moved to sit in the chairs by the empty fireplace. 

Dio sat cautiously in the armchair, unsure of Jonathan’s motivations. Usually, when people wanted to talk to him it wasn’t a good sign. Jonathan showed none of his own hesitations and sat comfortably in his own chair.

Jonathan leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, expression curious. Dio ignored all of his instincts telling him to run and met Jonathan’s eyes.

“Why do you flinch every time I go to pat you on the back?”

Dio felt his body freeze up. When Jonathan said he’d wanted to talk...well, he didn’t know what he expected but it certainly wasn’t this.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down enough to think of a proper answer. He looked over at Jonathan, hoping the boy would have noticed his distress and ask him something else, anything else! But Jonathan’s expression was thoughtful, chin still resting in his hand, as he watched Dio.

“There—there are lots of reasons, I suppose,” Dio said slowly, trying to judge Jonathan’s reactions. “The area of London I lived in wasn’t particularly, uh, upper class. I got into plenty of fights.” Jonathan narrowed his eyes at that but didn’t say anything. Dio took a breath and continued.

“And my father, Dario,” He felt his lips curl in distaste at having to say that bastard’s name. “He…he wasn’t a good man. Not like your father.”

Jonathan looked sad at this.

“I’m sorry. It’s obviously painful for you to talk about it.” Then he smiled. “Now it’s your turn to ask me a question!”

Dio blinked. His…turn?

“Oh right, of course. Hmm…” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “What do you want to do when you’re older?” 

It was a boring question he knew, but if he could keep the topic away from his past anything was fine.

“Huh, I guess I’ve never really thought about it…maybe I’ll become an archeologist, travel the world just like my mother!” He smiled broadly.

“Was your mother an archeologist?” Dio asked cautiously. Dead mothers were always a sensitive topic and…he didn’t want to make Jonathan uncomfortable.

Huh. Dio noted that thought and promptly filed it in the ‘deal with later’ section in his brain.

“No, she just travelled a lot. Many of the objects on display around the house are from her travels! Like that stone mask in the entryway! Father told me that it was from South America!” Jonathan was gesturing wildly with his hands, an excited smile on his face. “One day, I’d like to have things like that to display.” He tilted his head and smiled at Dio. 

“What do you want to become Dio?”

“A lawyer.” The answer came easily, he’d planned his whole life out after all. “I want to be able to help people like me get the legal help they need.” He sighed. “But it’s going to be a lot of work, especially since, well,” He waved his hand limply. “You saw how far behind I am.”

“Don’t worry Dio! You’re really smart, I’m sure you’ll catch up in no time!” 

Dio smiled, looking down at his lap. Jonathan’s endless optimism was…endearing, he supposed. For once, he felt at peace, sitting here with JoJo, talking together. 

Is this what its like to have a brother?

“Thanks JoJo, but I’m not sure.” Dio looked up from his lap expecting to see JoJo smiling, ready to give encouraging words but he was frowning at him.

“What?” Dio’s sense of peace evaporated immediately. Had he said something wrong? What had he done?

“No, no, its just—you called me JoJo.” 

Dio frowned. Had he?

“You’ve never called me JoJo before, except for when you asked me for the time earlier,” Jonathan explained. “Even though I’ve told you too, you’ve just called me Jonathan this past week. Everyone calls me JoJo, but you don’t. I figured it was because…” He trailed off.

Dio frowned.

“Because what?”

“Because…you didn’t like me,” JoJo finished lamely, his eyes drilling a hole in the rug.

Oh, Dio thought. That was all? He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Well, I can call you JoJo from now on then, okay?” He walked over to JoJo and put his arm around his shoulder. “And of course I like you, we’re brothers now, right?”

JoJo looked up and smiled that blinding smile.

“Right!’

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Lying in his bed that night, Dio thought about the events of the day. The geometry, skipping stones with JoJo and Erina…

Erina.

They say that it takes one to know one and Dio definitely knew what that girl was thinking. He could see it in her eyes, so similar to his own. The way she acted shy and embarrassed around JoJo, faking inability, only to show her true colours the second his back was turned.

Erina Pendleton was no simple country girl, that much he was certain of. If his suspicions were correct, she had a plan to get her hands on the Joestar fortune, and that plan involved Jonathan.

Dio ground his teeth, flipping onto his side.

He had just found his family, he would not let Erina Pendleton harm them now. 

And so, he did what he did best—Dio planned.

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Erina Pendleton , Dio wrote, pencil scratching the paper, born 1869. Daughter of Doctor Ian and Helena Pendleton. Helena died of an unknown illness in 1879. Ian continued his work as a doctor. Erina being old enough to leave school, took over her mother’s job of caring for the family home. She doesn’t appear to have many friends, except for Jonathan Joestar, whom she met in 1881.

He tapped the pencil to his lips, thinking.

Ian’s hospital is profitable enough to keep food on the table and the pair comfortably clothed, but not much more.

Dio placed the pencil down, satisfied with what he’d written.

He’d spent the last two days gathering as much information on Erina as he could, but no one knew much about her. Sure, everyone knew her, but no one in town was close to her. The most anyone could tell him was about how tragic her mother’s death was, ‘the poor dear’.

Useless.

However, it was more than enough to tell him that his hunch had been correct—Erina was after the Joestar fortune.

It was a masterful plan, Dio had to admit. Much more effective than his own would have been. Befriend Jonathan, discreetly drive off any other possible suitors, marry into the family, have a son and discreetly remove JoJo from the picture.  

It was clever, very clever. 

Now, he just had to find a way to counter it.

Chapter Text

Erina smiled happily to herself as she walked home from the river near Joestar Mansion.  It had been almost three weeks since her first encounter with Jonathan and her plan was going smoothly. She and Jonathan met up nearly every day after his lessons.

This particular afternoon they had gone swimming. The water had been pleasant enough, the clear water sparkling in the afternoon sun. But, as always, Jonathan ran off after a few hours, claiming he had to be home before dinner.

She’d stopped pushing him to stay when Dio started showing up to drag his brother home if he stayed out even five minutes later.

That Dio is a meddler, Erina thought as she walked on the edge of the dirt path. Perhaps he can be useful though…

She contemplated this as she walked slowly towards town, the sun on her back. It was higher than usual, but Jonathan had mentioned needing to go home earlier today. She shrugged, continuing down the road when she noticed a familiar blond figure leaning against a tree just up ahead.

She continued towards him, planning on walking straight past him.

“Erina.”

She stopped and turned to him, her mask of an innocent girl firmly affixed.

“Oh! Dio! I didn’t see you there! Aren’t you needed at the mansion today as well?”

Dio pushed himself off the tree, standing arms crossed in front of her.

“Drop the act, Erina, I can see right through you.”

She tilted her head to the side, adopting a confused expression.

“Act? What are you talking about Dio?”

His eyes narrowed and Erina began to wonder how much he actually knew.

“Don’t play coy with me. It takes a thief to recognise a thief, and you,” he pointed at her. “Are worse than any petty thief.”

Damn! I thought for sure no one would suspect anything, Erina thought.

She dropped the act—her eyes narrowing, lips quirking upwards into a smirk.

“Oh?” She asked, resting her chin on her fist. “Worse than a thief? What could my crime be, Dio? It must be one you’ve committed, because, after all,” She leaned towards him, smiling mockingly.

“It takes a thief to know a thief.”

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Dio’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. Her words confirmed everything he’d suspected for the past few weeks.

“You’re trying to marry JoJo and steal the Joestar fortune. Not my exact crime but,” He shrugged, leaning in closer to her, putting their eyes on the same level. “Close enough. Close enough for me to recognise the look in your eyes!”

Erina’s eyes widened briefly before returning to their narrowed state. Dio felt the corner of his lip twitch upwards.

“You see, Erina,” Dio continued. “When you put on a mask there’s always one part of your face still showing—your eyes. Now,” He straightened up, taking a slight step backwards. The closeness was making him uncomfortable. “Not many people would recognise your intentions just from your eyes. But if someone sees the same eyes every day when they look in the mirror, the likeness is unmistakable.”

“So,” Erina started. “We want the same thing? The Joestar fortune?” She stepped closer to him and he resisted the urge to step back again. “I’d be willing to team up with you, for a price.”

Dio almost laughed out loud. He wasn’t a fool, Erina had no intention of sharing the fortune with him—she probably just wanted a pawn to manipulate.

“No, I don’t think so Erina.” He pointed to himself. “I, Dio, have a different goal now. One you are interfering with. So, I’ll say it once nicely. Leave my brother alone.” He glared down at her, trying to look intimidating.

“Oh?” Erina questioned. “Very well then. I’ll just turn my attentions to you instead.” She stepped closer to him, pulling his face down to her’s by his collar.

Dio felt his eyes widen and he tried to pull away, but it was too late. Erina kissed him passionately, then she let go of his collar, laughing at the shock Dio knew was evident on his face. He stumbled backwards, landing in the gutter. 

He scooped up a handful of the water—which was surprisingly clean—and rinsed his mouth with it, swishing it around in his mouth, before spitting it out at the watching Erina.

Her eyes flared with anger, all traces of her faked innocence gone as she marched over and kicked him in the ribs. It hurt, but not badly enough to prevent him from getting to his feet. He’d endured worse in the past.

He pushed himself to his feet, arm wrapped around his wounded side, and met Erina’s eyes.

“I said it nicely, but you didn’t seem to listen. So, I’ll repeat myself, just. This. Once.” He glared at her. “Leave my brother alone bitch. Or I will make you regret it.”

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Erina smirked at Dio, enjoying the confusion that flashed across his face.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll try.” She reached out and stroked his cheek, laughing when Dio flinched. “This won’t be our last battle, Dio. I hope you’re prepared. I won’t go easy on you. Farewell for now.”

Erina stepped around Dio and headed back to town, her head bursting with plots and schemes.

This might be more fun than she’d thought.

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The second Erina arrived in town, she started her newest plan.

It was just a few whispers—scattered here and there among the youth of the town—but rumours spread like wildfires among children, growing larger with each whisper passed from one ear to another. 

That was the easy part. The hard part was figuring out how she was going to avoid Jonathan for the next few years.

But that was taken care of for her.

Her Father announced that evening that they would be moving to India in a few weeks and be living there for several years. Erina had to stop herself from laughing for joy when he told her, it was almost as if fate had arranged it.

Everything fell into place after that.

It was easy enough to lure Danny into a box which she placed in the furnace—the dog was used to her presence and trusted her almost as much as it trusted Jonathan.

And when Jonathan came looking for her in town after she hadn’t met him at their tree for several afternoons in a row, it was easy enough to ensure that she ran past a group of boys who happily told Jonathan the reason she wouldn’t face him.

As she ran towards her home, she smiled.

Everything was coming together perfectly.

Chapter Text

Dio paced in the entryway of Joestar Mansion, admiring the many valuable objects decorating the space. Vases from China, glass sculptures from Italy, and maps of cities he’d never heard of decorated the foyer. He paced—not paying attention to the objects surrounding him—desperately trying to think of a way to undo Erina’s latest scheme.

It was clever—so very clever—and Dio had begun to wonder if he may have underestimated the lengths Erina was willing to go to. The girl was definitely determined. This newest rumour circulating the town was going to be a pain to suppress. It’s not as if people would believe him if he were to discredit the rumours—surely JoJo would still have some measure of doubt no matter what he said. No, this was going to have to be dealt with before JoJo found out. But how?

He stopped in place when he heard the front door slam open. He turned, seeing JoJo standing in the doorway, pure fury on his face. Dio quickly suppressed a brief flicker of fear. Jonathan’s anger was a truly terrifying sight.

Well, he thought glumly, looks like he heard the rumours.

“Dio,” JoJo growled and stormed over to him, grabbing him by the collar, practically lifting him off the ground. “You bastard! How could you!”

Dio swallowed, mind racing. Perhaps, if he pretended to be ignorant?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop spouting nonsense.”

Dio could feel Jonathan’s anger grow and began to regret that statement. He should have known better. Once enraged, Jonathan was blind to everything else.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Jonathan practically screamed in Dio’s face. “Erina! What did you do to her?”

“Nothing! I swear, JoJo, I never did anything to that girl!” Dio could feel Jonathan’s grip tightening on his collar and realised that there was no way he was going to get out of this without a fight. So much for trying to prevent Jonathan from hearing about this. Now, it didn’t matter. JoJo was blind when it came to Erina—to him, she was an angel on earth.

“Liar!” Jonathan screamed and he punched Dio square in the face.

Dio was no stranger to violence. Growing up in the London slums had given him plenty of experience in that. He hadn’t lost a fight since he was eight. Now—hearing the crunch of his nose under Jonathan’s fist—all of those instincts that he tried so hard to repress came to the front.

He pushed Jonathan off him, sticking out a leg to trip him, ignoring the blood dripping from his nose. Jonathan stumbled but jumped quickly to his feet, his boxer’s instincts saving him. Quickly, Dio elbowed him in the side, dodging a sloppy punch, before giving Jonathan an uppercut to the jaw.

Jonathan stumbled backwards a few feet into the wall, blood spurting from his mouth. There was a clattering sound, but Dio ignored it, stepping forwards to help his brother up from the wall. But JoJo wasn’t paying attention to Dio anymore. His gaze was directed at the object that had fallen to the floor.

He was staring at the stone mask.

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Jonathan stared, all thoughts of Erina’s honour forgotten. The mask on the wall, an object so commonplace he had almost forgotten its presence, had changed. 

Spikes now protruded from its edges, drawn out when his blood had splattered its surface. It had fallen to the ground, the curved spikes pushing it off the wall.

He felt Dio move to stand beside him and stare at the mask on the ground. Neither of them spoke, all thoughts of their previous fight gone from their mind as they tried to comprehend the sight before them.

Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the spikes withdrew into the mask.

“What,” Dio spoke slowly, turning to make eye contact with him. “Was that?”

Jonathan was just as confused.

“I-I’m not sure,” He knelt down next to the mask, picking it up in his hands, frowning. “It put out some kind of spikes when my blood spilt on it.”

He ran his finger over the edges of the mask, before showing it to Dio, who was squatting next to him, his face as impassive as ever.

“There’s no holes on the rim, see?”

Dio nodded, running his finger over the rim in the same way Jonathan had.

“I wonder…Is your nose still bleeding?”

“A bit. Wh- Oh.”

Jonathan reached over and wiped a single drop of blood off of Dio’s face and wiped it on the mask.

Sure enough, the spikes popped right out again. They seemed to stay out for the same amount of time as before, despite that there was significantly less blood spilt this time.

“Looks like the amount of blood isn’t a factor,” Dio remarked, picking the mask up again. ‘But I wonder what its for…”

Jonathan hummed in agreement, wiping the mask clean with his handkerchief before placing it back on its hook.

“I don’t think we should tell Father about this, Dio,” Jonathan said turning back to face his brother.

Dio raised an eyebrow, pinching his nose with his handkerchief.

“Of course. After all, that would require explaining the uh, circumstances of our discovery. And I, personally, don’t want to miss out on dinner.”

Jonathan winced. That would not have been a pleasant conversation.

“You’re right. That…would not be fun.” He sighed and scratched the back of his head, before fixing Dio with a piercing stare. “But, Dio, did you mean what you said? That you didn’t do anything to Erina?”

It was strange, Dio looked so, so hurt at the accusation—even if it was only for a moment before his usual blank mask was back again—that Jonathan immediately regretted believing the rumours the boys in the town had told him.

“Of course not JoJo,” Dio met his eyes, and Jonathan could see the sadness in his eyes. “I know that she means a lot to you.”

Jonathan smiled at his brother and went to swing an arm around Dio’s shoulders but stopped when Dio ducked out of the way.

That’s right, Jonathan remembered, that puts him on edge. What did his father do to him that even a friendly gesture makes him feel attacked?

“Sorry,” Jonathan splayed his hands in front of himself in an apologetic gesture. “For everything. I shouldn’t have believed the rumours. I should have talked to you first.”

Dio smiled back tentatively, but Jonathan was pleased to get a genuine smile out of the boy.

“I forgive you, JoJo,” Dio cautiously put his arm around Jonathan’s shoulders and Jonathan smiled even brighter. “After all, its not like you spread the rumours. Now, I need some help with my geometry.”

Jonathan let out a playful groan and—laughing—the two walked to their usual study spot.

Chapter Text

“Father! That’s not fair! We wanted to be the first to tell you!” JoJo pouted at his father, who simply laughed. Dio suppressed a small smirk—the expression was very amusing on the bigger boy—and lay his hand on JoJo’s shoulder.

“He’s right though Father,” Dio said. “We won a great victory for the team today, we should have been the first to tell you.”

Lord Joestar smiled at his sons and Dio could feel the warmth coming from the kindly old man. Seven years ago, Dio would never have thought that the man in front of him would become a father to him. He smiled softly, thinking of the early days of his life at the Joestar Estate. Days spent slaving over schoolwork, afternoons running across the fields with JoJo, and skipping stones across the river.

Dio was broken out of his reverie by Lord Joestar’s coughing. For a few seconds, the man looked as if he might cough himself to death, but he eventually recovered and reached for a glass of water resting beside his bed. Dio felt his eyebrows knit together in concern and saw JoJo’s do the same.

The illness had started out innocuous at first—just a simple cough. But it had quickly grown worse and none of the doctors could say what was wrong. By all accounts, Lord Joestar should be getting better every day, not worse. Dio had only seen something like that once, and he sincerely hoped it wasn’t that.

But, it was difficult for Dio to ignore the fact that Lord Joestar was suffering from the exact same symptoms that Dario had suffered under the poison Dio had given him.

“You boys run along now,” Lord Joestar was saying. “You both have better things to do than watch over me—surely you have exams to study for Dio?”

Dio shuddered.

“No, thankfully,” He preferred not to remember the exams—he ended up rushing through many of the questions as he watched the sand trickle away in the hourglass. He sincerely hoped he never had to experience that again. “But we’ll leave you to recover now Father.”

“Goodbye, Father! Get well soon!” JoJo encouraged his father as Dio steered him out of the room.

The two walked down the hallway, passing Erina Pendleton carrying a tray with medicine towards Lord Joestars' room.

Erina.

Carrying the medicine.

Shit.

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Erina had not spent seven years in India for nothing. It had been easy on her return to rekindle the relationship between her and Jonathan, especially when she and her father were called to the Joestar Mansion to tend to Lord Joestar. She spent time with Jonathan every day and she was certain she could convince him to marry her. And Lord Joestar’s illness had given her the perfect opportunity.

Jonathan had once mentioned that Dio’s father had died of a coughing illness. He’d brought it up in one of their first meetings after her return, telling her how glad he was that Dario had died, and of the way he’d treated Dio.

Naturally, Erina had acted suitably horrified (“How could anyone do that to their own child!”), but she’d already connected the dots. To her, it was obvious that Dio had poisoned his father and gotten away with it very nicely. 

She was almost impressed.

Now, all Erina had to do was plant the seeds in Jonathan’s mind and he’d believe Dio was at fault for Lord Joestar’s illness.

Easy. And so far Dio hadn’t even suspected her.

She smiled softly, before knocking on Lord Joestar’s door.

When he responded, she pushed the door open and lay the tray beside the bed, watching him drink the poison, before filling up his glass of water and leaving the room.

Everything was going according to plan.

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Jonathan was spending the evening doing what he did in nearly all of his spare moments—studying the Stone Mask. 

He still hadn’t figured out its purpose, but he felt like he was close to a breakthrough. Any day now, he was certain! Soon, he would understand the mysterious masks’ purpose!

He flipped through his notebook, studying his sketches, hoping to find some clue he’d missed. They revealed no hidden secrets, not a single clue. How could it? He’d written the notes himself, everything he’d discovered since that day seven years prior, with sketches of the mask littered throughout.

Sighing, he stood up and walked to the bookshelf. Perhaps there was something in one of the many books in the library.

Pushing a ladder up against the shelf, he climbed, reaching for one off of the top shelf. As he grabbed it, he knocked down a suitcase off the top of the bookcase. It tumbled down, scattering its contents all over the floor, the loud noise breaking the usual silence of the library.

Book tucked under his arm, Jonathan climbed back down the ladder. He began to pick up the books, placing them back in the suitcase.

These are father's, Jonathan noted, I wonder—hold on, what’s this?

‘This’ turned out to be a letter. 

His curiosity overwhelmed him and he opened it, eyes skimming the words.

Dario Brando? This is from Dio’s father! That bastard, he deserved to die! 

The thought faded quickly as he read the letter and the pieces began to fall into place.

Had Dio really poisoned Dario?

There’s only one way to find out, Jonathan thought, and he ran to find Dio.

Chapter Text

Jonathan ran down the central staircase of Joestar Mansion, his footsteps echoing loudly. He passed Erina on the stairs but barely registered her presence, his focus on the figure that had just stepped out of the front door, dressed in a top hat and feathered cloak.

He rushed to the front door, seconds behind Dio, pushing it open before it could properly close. The snow was falling thickly, the night almost too dark to see the carriage carrying Dio clatter down the drive.

I’m too late. Jonathan stood, staring at the carriage before he snapped back to reality. There was only one place that Dio would have the contacts to get that poison; London. 

Jonathan turned and marched back inside. He was going to find Dio and get to the bottom of this mess. 

Dio, you’d better hope that this is all just some big understanding.

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The carriage rumbled down the road away from Joestar Mansion, its single passenger nervously drumming his fingers against the windowsill. Dio tried to settle into the carriage—placing his hat beside him, brushing the snow from his cloak and hat—but thoughts of his foster father lying in bed, dying slowly from poison haunted him.

Dio knew what that poison could do—how slowly it killed, causing its victim pain. Seven years ago, he had not hesitated in using it against Dario and had even considered using it against Lord Joestar. But that was before he’d met the Joestars. They were the first people to show him kindness since his mother was killed, and Dio loved them the way he’d loved her. Lord Joestar had taken in the young, angry, traumatised Dio—a boy who had killed his family—and cared for him, giving him a new family, a new life, new reasons to live. Dio was not going to let Lord Joestar—his true father, more than Dario had ever been—die at the hands of Erina Pendleton.

Not when he could do something to stop it.

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Jonathan had kindly given Erina a ride back to town on his way to London when she had said she needed to get some more medical supplies. She’d barely waited until his carriage was out of sight before she’d gotten her father’s driver to take her to London. Now, dressed in inconspicuous clothing, she sat in the carriage admiring the Stone Mask.

In Erina’s experience, Jonathan only thought about four things: His family, his schoolwork, rugby, and this. During the many afternoons they spent together, Jonathan would often talk about the strange mask his mother had bought and the strange way it reacted to blood. She’d read through his notes and agreed with him—it was clearly some type of execution method. Now, with Lord Joestar on his deathbed and Jonathan practically engaged to her, Erina had the perfect opportunity to take down Dio.

Dio would die, Erina promised herself. She’d test the mask on some random lowlifes, so his death didn’t look out of place. The police—already on edge—would chalk it up to one of the many murderers wandering London’s streets. Then, Erina would return to Joestar Mansion, administer the final dose of poison, and marry Jonathan. When she was pregnant with his child, she’d kill him the same way she’d kill Dio. With Jonathan’s intense study of the mask, it would be a plausible death too. No suspicion would fall on her.

Smiling, Erina flipped the mask over in her hands, tracing the strange patterns on its face.

Soon, soon, everything she had planned would fall into place.

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Jonathan had lost Dio’s carriage fairly early on. The snow had eased up—becoming more like rain the closer he got to London—but the night was still dark. On the horizon, Jonathan could see the lights of London brightening the sky. The detour to drop Erina at her father’s hospital had cost him precious time, but he could never refuse a request from her.

They had grown close after her return from India. Even when she was busy at the hospital, she always made time to see him, and he visited her every day. With his father’s illness—and her stay at the mansion—he saw her more often than he saw Dio. Every spare moment was spent in her company and Jonathan could feel his love for her growing every day.

He’d been hesitant to bring it up with his father, but his worries had been assuaged when his father had told Jonathan that he greatly approved of his relationship with Erina and encouraged him to marry her. Jonathan hadn’t needed much urging, but he decided to wait before mentioning it to Erina. But Jonathan knew that one day, he would marry Erina Pendleton.

When he’d said told Dio, Dio’s face went blank—the way it used to when they were twelve and Dio was still afraid of even a pat on the back—before he’d wished him luck. Jonathan had wanted to ask what was wrong, but something told him he was better off not knowing. Now, he’d never find out.

Dio had poisoned Dario—not that that scum had deserved living, in Jonathan’s opinion—and now, all the signs pointed to him doing the same to Jonathan’s father.

Jonathan didn’t want to believe it. Maybe the Dio of seven years ago—the broken boy who’d killed his father, kicked puppies and hated the world and everything in it—Jonathan would have believed it was that boy.

But the Dio of now? The Dio who’d spent the last seven years studying to become a lawyer to help people? The Dio who was the star of the Academy rugby team, the Dio Jonathan loved as a brother? It hurt Jonathan’s heart to think that Dio would try to kill his father.

But, all of the signs said otherwise and Jonathan couldn’t ignore that.

He sighed, leaning his head against the window as the carriage rumbled down the road towards the bright spot that was London.

Chapter Text

Dio made his way through the tangled ball of streets that made up the London slums. The narrow alleys twisted and turned, lit occasionally by the light of a nearby tallow candle or garbage fire. The mixed smells of wet garbage, unwashed bodies, tallow fat and smoke of all types blended together into a scent Dio knew well from his childhood. Occasionally he’d pass a pub or bar and have to maneuver around the bodies of drunks sleeping in the alleys nearby.

He hated every moment. 

Every second spent navigating the slums brought back unpleasant memories of his life before Joestar Mansion. Every street corner he turned, every stinking hovel overflowing with people, every drunk sleeping in an alley, brought the flood of memories screaming to the front of his mind. 

He moved quicker, the streets passing in a blur as his mind whirled. He found his way through the streets from memory, heart racing. Every fibre of his being was telling him to leave, to turn back the way he came, to run from these dark, stinking alleys, where the snow was nothing but slush underfoot.

But he persevered. Step after step, alley after alley, Dio trudged towards the poison seller where he had bought the poison for Dario.

Eventually, he found himself in front of the shop. He pulled his cloak closer and checking that his mask was still over his eyes, he entered.

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Jonathan stood in front of the body of the thug he’d just kicked to the ground, staring down the armed mob that had gathered to fight him. The gash through his arm that the thug’s bowler hat had cut straight through to the bone, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from fighting. He would find the antidote to the poison and save his father, no matter what.

Jonathan squared up, fist held in front of his face when he heard a strangled voice from behind him.

“Sto—” 

Jonathan turned to see the thug on the ground sitting up, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. 

“Sto—Stop everyone!”

The mob froze, all eyes on the thug.

“If any of you touch this gentleman, I, Speedwagon, won’t forgive you!” The thug—Speedwagon, Jonathan assumed—called, struggling to his feet.

“Gentleman?” Jonathan muttered. What was this thug going on about? Hadn’t he just tried to kill him?

“Tell me something!” Speedwagon called, turning on Jonathan. “Why didn’t you kick me with your full power? That leg of yours should have had my face beaten bloody!”

The mob, shocked, turned their eyes from Speedwagon to Jonathan, who gritted his teeth in determination.

“I’m here for my father. The moment I kicked, I realised that you must also have a father, and a mother, and siblings. I don’t want to sadden your father!”

Jonathan knew it sounded foolish, but it was true, and he sensed that lies wouldn’t do him any good here. Either way, the thug seemed impressed.

“What’s your name?” He asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

“Jonathan Joestar.”

“You said you’re looking for a guy who sells poisons? Be careful! He’s a nasty guy!”

Jonathan started.

“You know him!” Perhaps this man could lead him to the place he was looking for!

Speedwagon nodded.

“To make up for what I did to your arm, I, Speedwagon will guide you to his store!”

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The London slums were not a safe place for a young woman after dark. Erina knew this, she simply didn’t care. She trudged through the wet slush that covered the ground—a promise of snow in the weeks to come—searching for her first victim.

It was early in the morning—or late at night, depending on which way you counted—but the alleys of the slums were always full of people, no matter the hour. She passed a group of three men—clearly drunk—sitting on a bench near the River Thames. She walked past, ignoring them, when one stood up to block her way.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Erina had her knife out from her sleeve and under his chin in a split second. His words turned to spluttering and his friends on the bench sat in stunned silence.

“You know,” Erina spoke sweetly, her face the picture of innocence. “I was just going to ignore you. If you hadn’t tried to stop me, you might have lived.”

The man’s eyes widened and Erina smiled sweetly at him, before knocking his knees out from under him. 

She stood over him and placed the mask over his face, cutting her thumb on her knife and smearing the mask with her blood. The man was too drunk and too shocked to react as the spikes shot from the back of the mask into his brain, killing him instantly.

Erina waited for the spikes to retract before grabbing the mask and turning to the stunned pair on the bench.

“Now, which one of you wants to go next?”

The men—fear finally hitting them through their drunken stupor—tried to scramble away from her, but they were too drunk to get far. 

Erina sighed.

“Dear me, since you won’t decide, I guess I’ll have to…hmm,” She tapped the knife against her lips, pretending to think, before pointing it at one of the men at random. “You!”

She began to walk over to the shaking man when she felt something touch her foot. She tried to shake it off, but it just gripped all the stronger.

“Thirsty—” 

The voice was slow and rough, like someone who had been several days without water. 

“So thirsty.”

Erina turned slowly, dread rising. 

The man who she had already killed had grasped her leg and was beginning to stand up.

“Thirsty—” 

Erina kicked his hand loose but it took considerable force. Following her instincts, she ran to the ledge near the river and jumped down out of sight.

From the lower path, she could see the man stumble to his feet and make his way toward his friends, who were still frozen in fear. When he got closer, he reached out and plunged his fingers into their necks.

Even from a distance, Erina could see the blood pumping out of their bodies and into his. The man seemed to look younger with every drop of blood that went into his body.

Eventually, he withdrew his fingers and the two other men slumped lifeless to the floor, every drop of blood sucked from their bodies. Looking around, the man spotted Erina watching and slowly made his way over to her.

Desperately, she looked around, searching for a way to escape, the early morning sunlight sparkling off the river. 

Then, the man was gone.

It happened so fast Erina could hardly believe her eyes. One second she was looking around for an escape, the next the man had turned to dust in the morning light.

For a minute, Erina was confused. Then, it made sense with sudden clarity.

So, that’s what it does. 

It makes the wearer a vampire.

Chapter Text

The carriage rumbled away from London, its lone passenger staring out the window, antidote safely in hand. Wang Chan had been as unpleasant as ever, sneering and rubbing his greasy hands together while he searched through his stores of poisons and venoms for the antidote. But, unpleasant as he was, Dio knew his poisons—and his antidotes—were effective. He’d witnessed their effects first hand after all.

Dio gripped the small package tightly in his hand, the corners of the envelope digging into the palm of his hand. Lord Joestar could be saved. It was only a few more hours to the Joestar Estate, but Dio wished they could go faster. But he knew he could not afford to be careless. If the horses slipped in the light snow and toppled the carriage off a cliff, there would be no hope for his father’s survival. Dio would take no chances.

He settled into his seat, watching the peaceful countryside pass by out the window. It had been a long time since he had passed this way in daylight, and then he hadn’t been interested in the view—only plots and schemes. So now he made up for it, drinking in the beautiful English countryside on the road home from London.

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Erina bumped up and down as the carriage rolled over a bump in the road, her head almost hitting the ceiling at the speed they were going. It was a long drive from London to the Joestar Estate, but Erina had left London as the sun rose and was going as fast as she could. Her mind was racing, new schemes and plots rushing through her head, faster than the carriage raced down the country roads.

Her original plan was too boring now. It was safe, sure, but it would leave her mortal, to die from illness or injury or old age. But with the Mask…with the mask, she would be immortal! She could live forever with the Joestar fortune. The basis of her plan would stay the same—kill Lord Joestar and Dio, marry Jonathan, and then kill him. After all, it was a sound plan. But now she had an extra step. When the moment was right, she would use the mask on herself. With the new powers she would possess—like the inhuman strength the man at the river had demonstrated—no matter when she enacted that step, she’d have no problems finishing off any remaining Joestars.

She settled back into her seat, staring at the Stone Mask, rolling it over and over in her hands, delicately tracing its’ face. The power it contained was almost impossible to believe. But Erina had witnessed its power first hand, and she was going to claim it for herself.

Who created this? Erina wondered as she stared at the carvings on the face of the mask. Though, I suppose the more important question is:

Are they still alive?

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“What do you mean you’re sold out!” Jonathan exclaimed, staring down at the poison seller.

“Well, you see, good sirs,” the little man rubbed his hands together, cowering, fumbling for an excuse. “Another young man has already been here tonight and bought my entire stock.”

Another young man? Could it be Dio? He wasn’t the one responsible for the poison, not if he was buying the antidote! Jonathan almost sighed in relief.

“Really?” Speedwagon said. “Another young man, buying the same antidote we’re looking for, on the same night we need it to save my friend’s father? That’s awfully convenient Mr Chan.”

The poison seller nodded before realising what Speedwagon was implying.

“No, no! I swear I’m telling you the truth.”

Speedwagon raised his eyebrows and folded his arms.

“Very well then, if such a young man did come by tonight, what did he look like?”

“He—he was wearing a mask! I couldn’t see his face!” Speedwagon frowned and the poison seller seemed to realise the trouble he was in. He scrambled for more details. “He—he had blond hair! And—and three moles on his left ear! He—his cloak it—it had black feathers on it and he was wearing a top hat! I’m telling the truth I swear!”

“Why you—you’re just making this up!” Speedwagon stepped forward to punch the man, but Jonathan held him back. Speedwagon looked at him questioningly.

“He’s telling the truth, Speedwagon. I know that man.” He’s the one I followed here . “The more important question though is,” He pointed at the poison seller. “Why did he buy all of your stock?”

The poison seller, relieved that Jonathan had believed him, stopped cowering and stood up straight.

“There’s not much demand for antidotes, good sir. It’s the poisons that are in much higher demand. But, I keep a dose of most antidotes on hand. But that’s it, one dose. And the last young man bought it.”

Jonathan nodded, but his mind was far away, trying to piece together all the information he had surrounding his father’s poisoning.

If Dio has already bought the antidote, I no longer need to worry. He’s probably already on his way back to Father.

But if Dio hadn’t bought the poison, Jonathan realised...

...who did?

Chapter Text

“So, Mr Joestar,” Speedwagon was sitting across from Jonathan in the carriage. “Do you really believe this brother of yours to be innocent? Because running to buy the antidote when poison is suspected seems pretty suspicious to me.”

Jonathan looked up from bandaging his arm and frowned at Speedwagon.

“How do you mean Speedwagon?”

He shrugged, resting his foot on his knee.

“Well, it seems pretty suspicious to me. The minute you suspect that your father is being poisoned, he runs out to buy the antidote? To me, it looks like he’s trying to make it look like he’s innocent. Besides, how did he even know what antidote to buy? You said yourself that you hadn’t confronted him before he left.”

“A good point Speedwagon, but an invalid one.” Jonathan leant back in his seat. “Why would Dio try to remove suspicion from himself if he didn’t know I suspected him? Besides, Dio has seen this poison at work before, it makes sense for him to recognise the symptoms. He could have been planning to make this trip for weeks, while I just happened to discover the note last night. Now that I look at it, its unlikely the poisoner is Dio. Its more likely to be one of the doctors.”

Speedwagon frowned.

“I don’t know Mr Joestar, it seems to me that if he could poison one father, why not the other?”

Jonathan sighed.

“Really Speedwagon, Dio’s not that person anymore. Besides, if you were in his position I’m sure you’d have done the same. If you’d watched your mother die to protect you, surely you’d have avenged her?”

Speedwagon nodded and Jonathan smiled slightly. In his eyes, while what Dio had done wasn’t right, he also understood his reasoning. Besides, Dio had changed and become a better person now.

“Very well Mr Joestar, if you’re certain. However,” Speedwagon held up a finger. “I’ll reserve my judgement for when I meet him.”

Jonathan nodded.

“Of course.”

He supposed that was fair enough

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Dio ran through Joestar Mansion, antidote gripped tightly in his hand. The hallways were a blur as he ran up stairs and around corners, towards the hall where his father’s rooms were. He skidded to a stop outside of his father’s room, reaching for the door handle.

Before he could turn it, the door creaked slowly open, a familiar figure standing in the doorway.

“Erina.” 

She smiled, turning to face him, closing the door behind her.

“Hello, Dio.”

Dio clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.

“Let me through Erina.”

Her smile turned to a sneer, eyes cold and piercing.

“No. No, I don’t think I’ll let you through. Because,” She leant in and whispered in his ear. “That was the last dose.”

Dio’s eyes widened. Surely she couldn’t mean…?

Erina laughed softly, still speaking directly into his ear.

“That’s right Dio. If your father doesn’t get that antidote in a few minutes, he’ll die. How...tragic.”

Panic hit Dio. He had to move quickly. He reached around Erina, grasping for the door. She tried to push him back, but he was stronger. Still, he barely managed to open it. Pushing past her, he rushed into the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Father!” Dio called, rushing to the bedside.

“Dio…?” Lord Joestar tried to say more, but a coughing fit took over his whole body.

Desperate Dio looked around, spotting a glass of water next to the bed. He poured the antidote into the water and handed it to his coughing father.

“Here, drink this. It’ll make you feel better. Please.” Still coughing, Lord Joestar nodded his head, taking the glass from Dio.

Dio anxiously watched as he drank it down, and breathed a sigh of relief as Lord Joestar finished the water, placed the cup down, and fell asleep.

“Now, that wasn’t very polite.” 

Dio turned to see Erina leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows raised.

“How am I supposed to frame you for murder now?”

Dio scrambled to place himself in between his father and Erina, settling into a defensive position. He had to protect him from her. He didn’t know what her next steps would be, but Dio could be assured that it was something nefarious.

Erina laughed.

“How cute. Do you really think you could stop me if I tried to kill him? Please,” All traces of mirth left her face and she straightened up. “Don’t insult me. I don’t respond well to insults.”

Erina shut the door behind her, moving slowly towards the window. Dio watched her carefully, keeping his distance. She didn’t look particularly strong, but who knows what she had learnt in her time in India. It wouldn’t do well to underestimate her. 

Erina paused at the window, seeming to drink in the late afternoon sunlight. She sighed, then roughly pulled the curtains closed, plunging the room into near darkness.

For a moment, Dio lost sight of Erina in the blackened room. Then—just as Dio’s eyes had started to adjust—there was the sound of a match being lit and the room was bright again. When Dio’s eyes had readjusted to the bright light, Erina was standing beside Lord Joestar’s bed—knife pointed at his chest, Stone Mask on her face—a lit candle on the bedside table.

I have to stop her, what is she doing, why does she have the mask, what is going on here, what am I missing? Thoughts raced through Dio’s head and he reached out trying to reach Erina before she could do anything.

He was seconds too late.

Blood sprayed and the spikes shot into Erina’s head.

Dio froze. What was happening? Surely Erina knew what the Mask did? Unless…she knew something Jonathan’s seven years of study had failed to unveil. 

Erina seemed unaffected by the spikes piercing her brain. Her knees buckled momentarily before she righted herself, her presence growing even more menacing than it had been a moment ago. Casually, she tossed the knife onto the bed, Lord Joestar’s blood staining the white sheets red, droplets splattering the floor. 

Dio tried to process what was happening. Wasn’t the Mask an execution device, made to instantly kill its wearer? Clearly, Jonathan’s hypothesis had been wrong—Erina was still very much alive and was making her way across the room towards him.

“I wasn’t going to do this so soon, but even the best-laid plans go astray,” Erina removed the mask, tossing it to the floor as if it was nothing more than a stray hair she’d found on her skirt. “Now, Dio, I do believe you were planning to fight me? Something about protecting your father, I presume. Its a bit late to protect him, but I suppose vengeance would be the next best thing, hmm?”

His father was dead. 

Dio must be cursed. He was directly responsible for the deaths of every one of his parents. First his mother—who died protecting him from a beating—then Dario—who he’d killed with his own two hands—and now Lord Joestar. Just another person he’d failed. Another name on the list of deaths Dio was responsible for. He swallowed, gritting his teeth, and reached up to wipe away the tears rolling down his face. Erina would not get away with this. Whatever the Mask had done to her didn’t matter, Dio would add her name to the list.

Hopefully, her name would be the last.

But Dio doubted it would be.

Chapter Text

Erina laughed. How could she not? Here she was—a vampire, with superhuman strength and the ability to suck Dio’s blood right out of his body—and still, he stood against her, fists raised to fight, face stained with tears, expression hard. It was almost admirable. 

But it was mostly hilarious. 

She—she who was practically a god —was being stared down by a blond nineteen-year-old dressed in a ridiculous feathered cloak and top hat.

Dio’s face darkened at her mirth, and he rushed towards her—fists swinging. Erina dodged his blows easily, barely moving from her place as Dio frantically tried to hit her. His skill was undeniable—seven years of boxing and rugby had honed his fighting skills—but it seemed to her as if every move were in slow motion. To her new vampiric speed, dodging Dio’s blows was an easy task.

Erina smiled as she dodged another fist to the face and Dio’s side was left wide open. Instinctively, she jabbed at him with her fingertips, hearing the satisfying crunch of ribs breaking as her fingers connected.

Dio fell to the floor, landing beside Lord Joestars bed, wincing and groaning, his breathing ragged. He scrambled backwards as Erina stepped toward him. 

She was thirsty.

So thirsty.

She’d managed to ignore it well so far, but it was getting to her now. She knew she should leave Dio alive, but the scent of his warm blood coursing through his veins was too good to resist. Her powers, she knew they would grow further if she could just get some blood. She felt her fingernails grow, curving and pointing into talons. She licked her tongue against the two pointed fangs in her mouth as she got closer and closer to Dio.

Her plan no longer mattered, just her thirst.

She needed blood.

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Dio frantically scrambled backwards, trying to put distance between himself and Erina. His hat lay discarded on the floor and his cloak was lying in a similar state. He couldn’t even spare a thought for how the feathers would be ruined as he tried to get away from Erina, who was advancing slowly, her fingernails sharpened to talons, fangs visible as she bared her teeth at him. 

Fangs.

Blood.

The Mask.

Shit.

Vampires. Why the hell did the mask make vampires? Dio was far out of his depth. How was he supposed to fight an undead being? Erina was hundreds of times faster and stronger than him, in his current state—ribs broken, blood dripping from his mouth—it would be a miracle if he lasted long enough to reach the headboard of the bed.

His hand brushed against something hard…stone? He grasped it, feeling the strange carvings along its face.

In his current state…

Dio didn’t think. He knew if he let himself overthink this, he’d never avenge his father. He’d never be able to stop Erina. He wiped some blood from his mouth, placing the mask on his face. Then—staring dead ahead at Erina, who was still advancing on him—smeared the blood on the strange stone surface.

Instantly, the spikes shot into his brain. The pain was so great Dio’s vision went white. He opened his mouth to scream, but the pain was already gone. He blinked his eyes, adjusting to the now bright room. Erina was standing frozen, and Dio could practically see her calculations running through her head, trying to figure out what step to take next.

Dio didn’t have that problem. He leapt to his feet, his ribs causing him barely any pain, and placed the stone mask on the bed, next to the dagger. Then, he charged at Erina—covering the distance at a speed he wouldn’t have thought possible—and put all of his newfound strength into decking her.

She fell to the floor, shock evident on her face. Dio stood over her, pinning her to the ground with his foot.

“Vampires, huh?” Dio said, staring down at Erina. “Never expected that this old thing would do that. Though, I doubt you thought it would.” Erina spent so much time with JoJo it was impossible for her to not know about the mask and its supposed power. “My guess is you took it to London to try and kill me. But, to make the one death look less suspicious, you tried it out on some random passerby as well. Judging by the fact that you’re here, I’d say…” His eyes narrowed with contempt. She had survived by pure luck. “The sun rose and you got out of there just fine.”

Erina just smiled. God, he wanted to punch that stupid smiling face of her’s so hard. He restrained himself. It wouldn’t do any good. 

“It looks like you figured my plan out. But,” Erina smiled with that sickeningly sweet smile she only ever used when she knew something someone else didn’t. “How ever are you going to explain all this to Jonathan?”

Dio froze. And—for the first time since he’d arrived at the estate that afternoon—he stopped and paid attention to his surroundings. Faintly, just faintly, he could hear a carriage pull into the drive.

Shit.

There was no way he could explain this to JoJo.

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Jonathan and Speedwagon stepped out of the carriage in front of the Joestar Mansion. Speedwagon gave a low whistle.

“This place is huge! You really live here?”

Jonathan laughed, walking to the front entrance.

“I told you didn’t I?”

Speedwagon followed after him, gawking at his rich surroundings.

“You did, but seein’ it and hearin’ about it are two different things.”

“I suppose.”

Jonathan swung the front door open, stepping into the foyer, Speedwagon on his heels.

He frowned.

“Why is it dark in here? The maids should have lit the candles by now.”

Speedwagon grunted.

“It’s downright suspicious Mr Joestar.”

Jonathan found himself agreeing. Now that he thought about it, where was everyone? Normally, the butler would be here to greet him, but it seemed that the mansion was completely empty except for himself and Speedwagon.

There was a loud thump from where the stairs were.

Empty except for himself, Speedwagon, and whoever was on the stairs.

“Speedwagon,” Jonathan whispered. “Do you have a match?”

There was a pause, and then a whispered reply in the affirmative.

“Light it.”

Speedwagon did as he was told, and soon a tiny flame provided them with some light. Spotting a candle on the hall table, Jonathan brought it to the match and—after several tries—managed to light it.

Now able to see more than a few centimetres in front of their noses, Speedwagon and Jonathan crept towards the stairs, lighting candles as they saw them.

“Hello, Jonathan.”

He froze, halfway up the central staircase, lifting his head to meet the eyes of the person sitting on the top step.

“Dio.” Jonathan moved toward his brother slowly. Something was wrong. Jonathan wasn’t blind to the situation—the extinguished lights, the empty house, now Dio sitting on the top step in the dark—nothing was right here. But still, Jonathan moved towards Dio.

“Don’t!” Dio called out in a choked voice. “Please, just stay where you are.”

Please? 

If Jonathan hadn’t already been on edge, that word would have tipped him off. It’s not that Dio wasn’t polite, but that word with that tone…its not something Dio would ever say under normal circumstances. He stopped, waving to Speedwagon to do the same.

“Dio? What’s wrong?” Jonathan looked up at his brother, begging for answers. “Is Father…?”

“Dead.” Dio choked out. “Because of me.”

Chapter Text

Jonathan was in shock.

His father…was dead? Had the antidote failed?

“Careful Mr Joestar,” Speedwagon whispered, laying a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything rash.”

Jonathan noticed that his free hand was clenched into a fist, knuckles white. He breathed deeply, relaxing his hand. Speedwagon was right—he couldn’t afford to be rash.

“What happened, Dio?” He tried to keep his voice soft, comforting—like he was speaking to a spooked animal.

Dio shook his head, burying his face in his hands.

“I—I was too late…I thought…” Dio’s laughed, an ugly choking sound. “I thought I could save him, but I was too late.”

Jonathan felt his throat constrict.

“The—the antidote? It didn’t work?”

Dio laughed again—but this time it was more of a harsh barking noise—and he lifted his face, tears shining in the candlelight.

“Oh, it worked. Perfectly. But,” Dio stopped, looking at Jonathan. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what happened.”

Jonathan frowned. That didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he believe Dio?

Dio stood, straightening his posture, wiping tears from his face.

“Come, JoJo, and your friend too. I’ll lead you to Father.” He turned, muttering something under his breath so quietly Jonathan missed it.

Speedwagon didn’t.

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“She should be gone by now.”

Speedwagon froze when he heard those words. That meant there was someone else mixed into this plot. Who could it be? He wondered as he followed Mr Joestar and his brother down the hall. Could it be the poisoner?

Speedwagon was now reasonably sure that Dio wasn’t the one responsible for Lord Joestar’s poisoning and death. He prided himself on his ability to read people, and he could tell that Dio was truly upset about the Lord’s death and blamed himself for whatever had happened after the antidote had been administered. But if Speedwagon was sure about one thing it was this: No matter what happened, Dio was not their villain. He was convinced of that.

Dio opened a bedroom door and Speedwagon followed the brothers through the door.

It was a large bedroom, lit by the light of a single candle on the bedside table. In the bed lay an older man—Lord Joestar—blood staining the sheets, a puddle gathered on the floor. At the foot of the bed, there was a strange mask—that looked like was carved from stone—and a shining dagger.

Dio had moved to stand by the window, looking sadly across the room. Mr Joestar had rushed to his father’s body, his face grief-stricken.

“Dio,” Jonathan’s voice was tight. “What happened here.”

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Dio looked across the bed at Jonathan sadly.

“I rejected my humanity, JoJo.” He opened his mouth wide, showing JoJo the pointed fangs that had grown there. “The Mask, its not an execution device. It unlocks a power hidden in the brain, turning the user into some kind of vampire.”

JoJo looked confused for a moment, then understanding seemed to dawn.

“You—Are you telling me that you killed our father, to become a vampire ?” Dio could see the rage radiating off of JoJo, filling the room with a menacing aura. He simply nodded.

JoJo couldn’t know about Erina. It would kill him if he ever found out that the woman he loved would do anything to get her clawed hands on the Joestar fortune. So, he would hide it from him. Take the blame onto himself and deal with Erina quietly. If that meant that he’d never see JoJo again—he’d do it. To Dio, his family’s happiness was the most important thing.

He turned his gaze from JoJo and saw the expression on his friend’s face. The man in the bowler hat was frowning at Dio like he knew that Dio was lying. Like he could sense there was more to the story.

Dio never got to ask him about it though, because JoJo tackled him and he had to fight for his life.

Around him, the mansion burned, along with seven years of happiness.

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Erina watched Joestar Mansion burn down from a safe distance. She’d kicked Dio off of her the second he’d paused to listen to Jonathan returning home, and retreated out the bedroom window.

She ran to her father’s hospital—faster than she’d ever run before—to prepare a hospital bed for Jonathan. 

This was another opportunity, the fortune was once again within her reach.

But first, she had to do something about this damned thirst.

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Dio felt himself being dragged from the burning wreckage of Joestar Mansion. It was still night, but the moon had set and the stars were obscured by the smoke.

“—ando. Mr Brando!” JoJo’s friend, the man in the bowler hat, was leaning over him. Dio groaned in response. He was in so. much. pain.

The man looked relieved.

“You’re alive! Quick,” He helped Dio stand, then practically carried him to a waiting carriage. “It will be daylight soon, and I doubt that will be good for you.”

Dio could barely nod in agreement, it was taking all of his energy to not use his talons to suck the blood from the man. He flopped into the carriage seat that he was placed in and looked at the man in the seat across from him.

“Thank you, Mr…?” Dio managed to wheeze the words out of his burnt lungs.

“Speedwagon. Robert E.O Speedwagon. And there’s no need to thank me. I couldn’t just stand by while an innocent man burnt alive.”

Dio wheezed out a coughing laugh.

“Innocent? Are you sure you saved the right man?”

Speedwagon fixed him with a piercing gaze.

“You might be many things, Mr Brando, but you are innocent in this case. You are not responsible for Lord Joestar’s death, no matter what you may have said to Mr Joestar in the mansion.”

JoJo, Dio thought, he can’t find out I’m alive. I have to stop Erina myself.

“Where—where is JoJo right now?” Dio questioned.

“I took him to the village hospital, the nurse promised to take good care of him.”

Dio’s eyes widened.

“You took him to Pendelton Hospital?” 

When Speedwagon nodded, confused, Dio slumped even further into his seat.

Unknowingly, Speedwagon had played right into Erina’s hands.

Chapter Text

It had been less than a week since the Mansion had burnt down, leaving nothing his home as nothing but ash and rubble. Dio sat in the common room of one of the many inns in town, tucked away in the back corner, mostly out of sight of the other patrons. The last thing he needed was to be recognised and word to reach Erina that he’d survived. Thankfully, Speedwagon had chosen an inn on the opposite side of the small town to the Pendleton’s Hospital, so it wasn’t like there had been any chance meetings in the marketplace. 

Not that Dio could even visit the marketplace. 

He knew—even without Speedwagon’s surprisingly large amount of knowledge about vampirism—that leaving the inn was a bad idea. Who knew who in town could be working for Erina—even at age twelve she’d had an impressive network of informants in the town. That alone was enough to discourage him, as well as the fact he would die the second the direct sunlight touched his pale skin.

Dio sighed, sinking further into the darkness of the corner as the door to the inn opened, the room brightening. Speedwagon walked in, a troubled expression on his scarred face. He barely glanced around the room, making his way towards Dio, who sighed again. That expression meant no good—Speedwagon had likely run into trouble while investigating JoJo’s condition at the hospital. Speedwagon pulled out a chair to sit down and Dio winced at the loud scraping noise it made. No one else in the room seemed bothered by it though, so he put heightened hearing on his mental list of vampiric powers. The list was getting quite long—and he’d only had the powers for a few days. Each night—when he left the inn and roamed the town and its surroundings—he made new discoveries. 

He could only assume Erina was doing the same.

“How did the visit go?” Dio asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“I couldn’t get anywhere near him!” Speedwagon exclaimed, placing his bowler hat on the table and running his fingers through his hair. “That Erina, she’s keeping a very close eye on him. I wouldn’t be surprised if the only time she left him alone is when she goes to feed!”

Dio nodded. His own thirst had become insatiable the night of the fire and it had taken every fibre of his being to not suck the life force out of the nearest human—who had happened to be Speedwagon at the time. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to resist when two people passed by him while he’d been waiting for Speedwagon in a side alley. He hadn’t known them. But that didn’t stop the guilt that came from killing innocents. 

Dio doubted that Erina had any such qualms about killing for power.

Thankfully, that—rather unfortunate—feed had helped him mostly recover from his injuries and he hadn’t needed to feed since. Dio suspected he could go hundreds of years between feeds if he didn’t get injured. Which was quite a relief. He wasn’t sure if he could live with himself if he had to go and eat a random person every night. He’d probably step out into the sunlight of his own accord the minute Erina was dead.

“I haven’t seen her out at night, so she probably fed once and hasn’t left JoJo’s side since,” Dio tapped his fingers against the table. “She probably wants to make sure no one is taking care of JoJo except her. She can’t risk him hearing the true story.”

“Eh, you’re probably right there Mr—uh Dio.”

Dio felt a small smile touch the corner of his lips. Speedwagon had been very insistent about calling him ‘Mr Brando’ until Dio had explained that hearing that name made his skin crawl and his mind whirl. 

Speedwagon had understood. 

“Everyone’s got a past they’re tryin’ to escape in my experience,” he’d said. Dio had thanked him, but sometimes the kind-hearted thug slipped up. But, Dio gave credit where credit was due—Speedwagon was trying his hardest. And that was something Dio could respect.

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It was a beautiful night, Erina thought as she stood on the top of the small town’s church. The sky was clear and the moon was full, bathing the entire town in a silvery light. She stretched her arms upwards, basking in its light, just as she had once done with afternoon sunlight. It didn’t matter to her that the sun was out of reach now, the moon’s light and energy was far greater than the sun’s had ever been.

If humans are creatures of the sun, it only makes sense that vampires are creatures of the moon. Erina mulled this thought over, keeping a careful eye on the window that lead to Jonathan’s room. This was her first excursion since he had been placed in her care, and it wouldn’t do for her to wander too far from him. After all, who knew what could happen? And there had already been too many changes to her carefully laid plans. She would not allow another disturbance.

Her ears pricked up, catching a noise that stood out in the quiet night. She turned, searching for its origin, but it was too late, whatever had made the noise was gone. She dismissed it, writing it off as an animal or a drunk in an alleyway. 

But, even as she returned to keep an eye on Jonathan, she couldn’t help but feel like she had missed something significant.

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Speedwagon imagined it must be very hard for two vampires wandering the roofs of such a small town at night to not run into each other. So, he hoped that Dio wouldn’t accidentally run into Erina. He wouldn’t be able to help if they met while he was sleeping!

The true story had shocked him at first, but not as much as he knew it should have. Speedwagon had travelled the world and seen many strange things, so vampires in the English countryside was not as improbable as they may first appear.

He’d wanted to tell Jonathan the truth—he didn’t want to leave his friend in the dark. But, Dio had insisted. He claimed it would break Jonathan’s heart to know that the woman he had loved for so many years was actually a bloodthirsty vampire after his family fortune.

“I can bear JoJo’s hate,” he’d told Speedwagon, his face a mask but his eyes incredibly sad. “But I couldn’t bear seeing him as heartbroken as he would be if he knew the truth.”

Speedwagon supposed that was fair. He could tell Dio would do anything for his family, even if that meant he would never see his brother ever again.

It was sad, Speedwagon thought, but he’d do his best to help Dio takedown Erina. Together they’d avenge Lord Joestar, and Jonathan would never have to know what truly happened to his father.

He sighed, settling into the inn’s bed. Dio had already left for the night, so Speedwagon had left the window open for him to enter when he returned. Soon, he drifted off to sleep.

When he awoke the next morning, light streamed through the room—the window still open—and Dio was nowhere in sight.

Chapter Text

“This is a strange place to see someone like yourself.”

Dio started, turning to see who had spoken. The man—who had been leaning against a tree by the river—stood, dusting off his white cloak and checkered hat.

“Though perhaps not, after all, this is your time,” the strange man gestured upwards and Dio followed his gaze to the full moon. He brought his gaze back to the man.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow your meaning, sir,” Dio decided that politeness was the best course of action when faced with such a strange person by the river at midnight. And if his actions were anything to judge by, he knew Dio was a vampire.

“Hm, of course you would say that. I suppose I’d better be blunt.” The man pointed dramatically at Dio. “Dio Brando, I am Baron William A. Zeppeli. I am here to end the scourge of the Stone Mask and wipe your kind from the world. Now, tell me, what are you doing here, tonight?”

Dio was flabbergasted. This man clearly knew who he was and what he was but how had he found out? He’d never seen this man before, not even in the last few days. Dio was sure he would remember encountering someone like this. He stared at the man, trying to understand what was happening and how to proceed.

“I suggest you answer me quickly, vampire, or you may regret it,” The man spoke, his hand glowing with a bright yellow light that crackled like lightning around his knuckles. Somehow Dio knew—by instinct perhaps—that that light could kill him. Dio held his hands up in surrender—trying to make his movements as nonthreatening as possible—but the light around the man’s hand didn’t fade away.

“I’m just taking a walk! I swear I haven’t eaten anyone tonight! Please, I don’t want a fight.” Dio pleaded. He knew it was out of character, but if he was honest, he wasn’t sure what was in character for himself anymore. He was in a situation he wasn’t prepared for, and day by day he could feel himself slipping into the role of a scared child. It was not a role he enjoyed playing, but he wasn’t sure he had much choice in the matter. It seemed fate had cruel, cruel plans for him, and he was nothing but a ship being tossed around in a storm.

Thankfully, Zeppeli seemed to believe him, the crackling light fading.

“Strange. You are not the vampire I was looking for. How odd, for there to be two of you in the same place! Normally they are not so liberal in sharing their powers.”

Dio sighed.

“It’s…a long story.” And not a pleasant one to tell.

“I have all night,” Zeppeli said, sitting at the base of the tree. “Explain.”

Dio moved to sit closer to the man but stopped. He didn’t want to get closer to whatever that crackling energy from before was and his gut instinct told him that the further away he was from Zeppeli, the safer he was. So he sat on the grass, a good three metres away from the Baron, who seemed mildly amused by the action.

Dio turned the story over in his mind. Where to start? With Lord Joestar’s death? No, too late in the story. His first encounter with Erina? Too out of context. He sighed. There was just too much to tell, he wasn’t sure where to start.

Perhaps...I should start at the very beginning—before I met JoJo. He didn’t want to. Dio had spent the last seven years trying to forget his past—to become a worthy member of the Joestar family. But, Dio knew if he didn’t want Zeppeli to vaporise him with that power of his, he was going to have to explain everything.

“It started with my mother’s death.” 

Dio told his story, eyes not moving from the grass in front of him. He tried not to leave anything out, but his memory—sharper than it had been a few days prior—was blurry. Zeppeli sat listening to the boy’s story patiently, only occasionally asking questions. Dio didn’t look up until he’d finished the whole story—from his mother’s death to the burning of the mansion a few nights prior.

When he did, the sky was beginning to lighten, the sun soon to crest the horizon. Panic hit him. If he didn’t hurry, he’d never be able to avenge his father. If the sun’s rays hit him…

Seeing his panic, Zeppeli took a thick cloak out of his bag and tossed it to Dio, who caught it, startled.

“Put this on, and pull the hood over your head,” Zeppeli explained. “It’s my winter cloak, it ought to protect you from the light for now.”

Quickly, Dio did as he was told, hiding from the morning sunlight. He swallowed, wiping at the tears he hadn’t realised he’d shed.

“You—you believed my story then?” Dio asked the strange Baron, who nodded.

“Indeed, young Dio. It seems to me that you have been placed in this mess by no choice of your own and—since it is my duty to rid this world of the Stone Mask—I will help you. This Erina Pendleton, since she is now a vampire, will have to be destroyed. I will help you avenge your father, Dio.” Zeppeli smiled at him and Dio was surprised by how well the man had taken his story. But, there was still one thing on his mind.

“So, you aren’t going to vaporise me with your—” he searched for a good word and failed to find one. “—weird glowing zappy powers?”

Zeppeli laughed.

“My Hamon? No, Dio, I won’t vaporise you. I sense you want to rid this world of the Stone Mask as much as I do, and I am not one to turn on my allies. Now,” Zeppeli stood, dusting his white coat. “We had best hurry to shelter before the sun gets any higher in the sky and you turn to dust before my eyes.”

Dio nodded, hurrying to his feet, ensuring the cloak completely covered him.

“I’ll lead you to the inn where Speedwagon and I are staying,” Dio said, starting to walk away. Then he froze, remembering something. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Zeppeli asked.

“Speedwagon doesn’t know where I am. He’s probably panicking right now,” Dio sighed. “We’d better hurry. He might try and fight Erina by himself if he thinks she killed me.”

Zeppeli chuckled but the two of them walked as fast as they could to the inn.

Chapter Text

Speedwagon had been about to leave the inn as Dio ran in, Zeppeli close behind, nearly knocking the poor man right over. Miraculously, Dio had survived the frantic run to the inn—Zeppeli’s cloak had stayed firmly affixed over his head, protecting him from the early morning sunlight. 

Now, the three of them were gathered around the table in the back corner that Dio had been occupying for the last few days. Speedwagon and Zeppeli enthusiastically dug into bowls of beef stew—an odd choice for breakfast in Dio’s opinion—and discussed the current situation.

“So,” Zeppeli said, delicately wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “We don’t want Jonathan finding out about this, correct? That means we need to eliminate Erina quickly.”

“I think we’ll have quite some difficulty with that, Baron.” Dio ignored how good the stew smelt, and gestured with his hand. “This is Erina’s home ground and I can almost guarantee that she’s far more powerful than I am. She has no qualms about taking innocent lives to gather more power—she’s probably been eating at least one person a night for the past week.”

Zeppeli nodded, eating another spoonful of his stew. It smelt so good! Dio shook his head, trying to focus. He didn’t need to eat, so why was he hungry?

“We gotta act fast!” Speedwagon exclaimed. “Mr Joestar is in that monster’s clutches right now, who knows what she could be doin’ to him!”

Dio laid a hand on Speedwagon’s shoulder.

“JoJo will be fine—for now at least. She needs him alive and in love for her plan to work.” If that even is still her plan.

The words seemed to calm Speedwagon down though and he went back to eating his stew.

Dio’s stomach rumbled.

Shocked, he looked down at his stomach. Zeppeli and Speedwagon stared at him. He blushed—how embarrassing!— and looked away awkwardly.

Zeppeli laughed.

“It seems that you’re hungry Dio. When was the last time you ate? Human food.” He clarified.

Dio thought. It had been a while. Did he eat in London? No, it must have been on his way back. Some bread and cheese perhaps?

“Just before I brought the antidote to my father. But, why should it matter? I shouldn’t need to eat. And I don’t feel hungry, my stomach just...grumbled.”

Speedwagon sniggered and Dio shot him a death glare. It didn’t stop him, he just sniggered slightly quieter.

“Curious…If I had to guess, its a mental reaction, not a physical one,” Zeppeli suggested. “Your body thinks it should be hungry, so its reacting like it is. Here,” He slid his half-finished bowl of stew to Dio. “Eat this. I ate while we were talking earlier, so I’m not particularly hungry.”

Dio took the bowl thankfully and began eating. It tasted even better than it had smelt. With his heightened senses, he felt like he could taste the individual ingredients. It was strange but nice. He wolfed the stew down with such speed he was sure he would have gotten a scolding if he’d done it at home.

He placed the bowl back down, sighing and stretching back in his chair.

“That was the best stew I have eaten in my entire life.” He heard Speedwagon mutter ‘I could tell’ and chose to ignore it, sitting properly in his chair. “But, I’ve sidetracked us. How are we going to deal with Erina?”

“I have a suggestion,” Speedwagon spoke up, recovered from his laughing fit. “Why don’t we go somewhere else—take Mr Joestar with us when he wakes up—and you can learn how to use your powers and Baron Zeppeli here can help you figure it out. Then, when we’re strong enough, we take her down.”

The determination in Speedwagon’s eyes was admirable, but his plan was naive.

“Erina could kill hundreds of people in that time, Speedwagon. The sooner we take her down the better. The longer she has to learn about her powers the more trouble we’ll be in.” Zeppeli pointed out. Dio nodded, he felt the same.

“No matter what we do, we’ll have to wait until JoJo is out of the hospital. If he’s still there…who knows what Erina could do to him…” Dio trailed off, not wanting to even imagine what Erina might do.

Zeppeli nodded.

“Agreed.” He thought for a moment. “Alright, here’s my plan. When Jonathan gets out of the hospital, I will teach him Hamon, under the guise of hunting down his father’s killer. If I’m right about him, it should take around a week to master the basics. Then, we’ll leave to ‘find’ you, Dio. You’ll be hiding out in a small town, a few weeks travel from here—Wind Knight’s Lot should do. Erina will probably go after you, so she’ll be distracted while I teach Jonathan. I’ll contact my master and some other Hamon users and—at Wind Knight’s Lot—we’ll take Erina down.”

Dio glanced at Speedwagon, who nodded. Dio nodded back. Despite only knowing the man for a few weeks, Dio trusted his intuition—after all, it was the reason he was still alive. The same with Zeppeli—the Baron could have killed him on sight but had sat and listened to his story instead. He trusted these men with his life.

He looked to Zeppeli.

“When do we start?”

Zeppeli smiled.

“I’ll start writing.”

Chapter Text

Zeppeli wrote the letter in a script Dio didn’t recognise—languages had never been his forte. He waved it around to dry the ink, then folded it, placing it in an envelope he produced from in his coat’s pockets. He sealed the letter with some dripped wax from the table’s candle, wrote an address on the front and sat it on the table to dry. Speedwagon frowned, moving it slightly so he and Dio could read the map Zeppeli had also produced.

“So,” Speedwagon said slowly. “When Mr Joestar wakes up, Dio’s goin’ to leave to go to Wind Knight’s Lot?” 

“Yes, Speedwagon,” Dio said, tracing the route he’d take with his finger. With his new speed, it should only take three nights—over half the time it would take a regular person.

“And I’m goin’ to stay here with Baron Zeppeli and help him train Mr Joestar?”

Dio sighed.

“Yes, Speedwagon. You can’t exactly come with me, you were here when JoJo went into hospital—it’d be suspicious if you weren’t here.”

Speedwagon frowned.

“I know, it’s just…I know Baron Zeppeli can take care of Mr Joestar, but what if Erina catches up to you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Dio reassured. “If anything happens, I’ll just run very fast in the opposite direction.”

Speedwagon laughed.

“We both know that’s a lie. You’re no coward Dio.”

Dio smiled wryly. 

“Sometimes I wish I was.”

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Erina still couldn’t shake the bad feeling from the night before, even as she tended to Jonathan’s wounds. 

She wrung out the cloth she was holding, walking from the basin to Jonathan’s bedside, laying the cool cloth on his mostly healed burns.

She had to hand it to him—the man healed ridiculously fast. She’d seen burns like this before, in India, and it had taken months for the wounds to heal. Jonathan’s had practically disappeared in just a few days. She shook her head and moved back to the basin, rewetting the cloth and wringing it out. The sound of the droplets hitting the water in the basin was ridiculously loud to her heightened hearing. It was taking quite some getting used to, but the ability had its uses.

She paused at the basin, hearing a slight shift in Jonathan’s heartbeat. It sped up a little, and Erina rushed to the bedside. Was it getting worse? Or was he waking up?

Her question was soon answered.

“E-Erina?” Jonathan’s eyes flickered open. His voice was dry and croaky and she handed him a glass of water she’d kept in the room.

“Hello, JoJo.”

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Jonathan and Erina strolled down near the river, Erina covered from head to toe, a parasol protecting her face from the sun. They talked companionably, Jonathan avoiding the topic any time Erina tried to bring up what had happened to Joestar Mansion.

They’d been walking for almost an hour when a strange man—who had been leaning against a tree—approached them, demonstrating ‘Hamon’— which gave him the power to kill vampires.

Erina hung back, wary of approaching the man. This must have been the sound she heard the other night—this man hunting for…Dio, she presumed. He hadn’t reacted to her presence at all and was currently standing on the river, giving Jonathan some spiel about ‘ripple power’.

She tuned it all out, fuming at herself for not investigating the noise. If she’d caught him by surprise the night before, this threat would have been neutralised. She had to be more careful, gather her strength. If they found out that Dio wasn’t the only vampire around…needless to say, it would not end well.

Erina glanced at Jonathan, he was still talking to the man—completely forgetting Erina’s presence in his quest for vengeance against his father’s killer. No, it would not end well if Jonathan found out it was she who had murdered his father.

Quickly, she left the river, making her way—at a regular speed—back to town. She’d leave once it was completely dark and make her way to London. She’d gather people there, gather her power. If she was lucky, Dio would be hiding out there as well.

She hoped.

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Dio bid farewell to Speedwagon and lept out the window. Zeppeli was keeping JoJo busy down at the river, giving Dio the opportunity to leave town without being spotted. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop, avoiding the area of town near the hospital. It would only take him a few days to reach Wind Knight’s Lot, but the quicker he got there the better. He didn’t want Erina focusing on JoJo too much—if she really didn’t want word of what had actually happened reaching JoJo, Dio was the person she needed dead.

He was bait. And that was fine.

Dio had never been much of a hero anyway.

Chapter Text

It had been two days since Dio had left for Wind Knight’s Lot. Now, he was standing on the parapet of the castle overlooking the small town.

It was a quaint place, not very large. If Dio had to guess he would say it was home to around 800 people. It had probably been a larger town at one stage, populated by the families of people who lived in the castle. Dio vaguely remembered learning about this place in his studies. It had been a training ground, where knights lived and trained to serve their lords and ladies. He remembered the tales of Tarkus and Bruford and the 77 Rings Challenge that only a handful of knights ever managed to complete.

It was awe-inspiring to be standing where hundreds of historical figures had stood over the years. But now, it was just a ruin, inhabited by someone who wasn’t even meant to be alive.

Dio sighed, walking down the stairs to a small chamber that he had set up as a bedroom. Dawn was coming, so he might as well try to sleep.

It didn’t work.

After several hours of staring up at the ceiling in boredom, Dio got up. Exploring his new surroundings was a better use of his time than trying to recreate something that belonged to the living.

He started on the western side of the castle. Most of the rooms were guest rooms, with rotting beds and other furnishings still in place. He found the kitchens and the laundry, and what he assumed was a bathroom. 

The castle wasn’t as large as he’d originally thought, and it only took him a few hours to explore every room. Most were standard, but there was one room that caught his eye.

Originally, Dio had ignored this room—it had no real practical use after all. But he stood in the throne room, admiring the moth-eaten tapestries decorating the walls. Soft afternoon light came in from the dusty windows, the sunlight so diluted Dio wasn’t worried about suddenly turning to dust or whatever would happen to him when he got into direct sunlight.

Though, doesn’t the moon just reflect sunlight? Dio thought as he walked to the next tapestry in line—this one less moth-eaten than the last, its depictions of knights and battles easier to see. Perhaps its only direct sunlight…though I’m not sure I’m willing to test that theory, at least not intentionally. Perhaps, after this is all over, when Erina’s gone…

The thought trailed off. What would he do when this was all over? He couldn’t exactly go back to the Mansion—JoJo would never want to see him again, that much was sure. Zeppeli had been clear—he was an ally for now, but would that change after the greater threat was taken care of? What would Speedwagon do? The man was loyal, but JoJo had a greater claim to his loyalty than Dio did, as much as he considered the man his friend. After Erina was dead, what use would Dio have?

Useless .

The thought hit him like a knife to the heart.

And for the first time in his life, Dio realised that he didn’t know what he was going to do next.

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Dio wasn’t in London. 

Erina punched a wall, leaving a large dent. It wasn’t like the trip had been wasted—she’d gathered a group of minions to keep an eye on Jonathan and his little band of heroes. Though, the way they’d quickly disposed of Jack the Ripper had been rather annoying. The trouble she’d gone through to turn him into a zombie! The cut on her stomach still hadn’t completely healed.

Annoyed, she strode over to the desk in the centre of the room, unrolling a map that was sitting on it. Reaching into the pocket of the trousers she was wearing, she pulled out a piece of chalk. She traced a line, following the line of Jonathan’s travels and continuing on until she reached a town, a weeks travel from the Joestar Estate.

“Wind Knight’s Lot,” she read out the name of the town. “Perhaps, I should go investigate…”

She could leave her minions here, have them watch London for signs of Dio or Jonathan’s potential return. After all, she could always make more minions.

And, if Dio was at Wind Knight’s Lot, Erina had to get there before Jonathan. It would be no good if Dio managed to get the truth through Jonathan’s thick head. It shouldn’t be too difficult to make any attack on her part look like it was from Dio.

After all, she had a plan.

Chapter Text

“Lovely place you’ve got here.”

Dio didn’t turn—he’d heard her footstep long before Erina had even entered the throne room. He continued with his work, adjusting the large velvet curtains across the large windows. He was still surprised that they were in such good condition—after a hefty beating to remove the dust, they had surprisingly few holes for curtains that had sat in an abandoned castle for centuries. 

He leapt down from the extremely tall—and extremely precarious—pile of chairs and boxes he’d used to reach the top of the window, admiring his handy-work. It had been a long time since he’d had to clean anything, though the last time he’d mended fabric was more recent. Still, he was proud of himself. After a few nights—and days—of hard work, the throne room windows were spotlessly clean, with large thick curtains to block out any stray rays of sunlight.

The moonlight trickled in through the open curtains, casting everything in a strange, silvery-grey light. Dio could see just fine—his heightened senses making everything appear as daylight. 

Erina’s footsteps moved closer.

“It’s rude to ignore a guest, you know.”

Dio sighed internally and turned to face her, a strained smile on his face.

“Its a good thing you aren’t a guest then.”

Her eyebrows quirked slightly, a similarly strained smile on her face.

“Oh? Pray, tell then. What am I?”

“Something akin to a cockroach, I’d imagine. No matter how hard I try to get rid of you, you pop right back up again, almost as if nothing happened.”

Erina laughed at that, and Dio’s skin prickled. Her harsh laughter echoed loudly in the hall.

“An interesting analogy, Dio.” 

Erina brushed past him, admiring the large window behind him. Dio didn’t move.

He knew why Erina was here.

All he could do was wait for her to make her move.

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Dio started into consciousness, head still ringing from how hard Erina had struck him. He gently moved his head, searching the area for her, but she was long gone.

He strained at the bonds on his wrists, breaking them in an instant.

He’d been waiting for this. 

It had taken her two days, but she’d made her move. She’d distracted Dio, and was probably leading JoJo, Zeppeli and Speedwagon into a trap. 

Dio growled in frustration, leaving the castle as fast as he could. Erina wanted him to follow, so the path was clear. Dio hated how well she knew him, that she could lay a trap so perfectly for him.

But, he had to make sure JoJo and his band of heroes were safe. Speedwagon…Zeppeli…The two of them had listened to him and trusted him despite the overwhelming evidence against him. He had to make sure all of them were safe. He had to save them.

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The two zombified knights were strong, that was obvious. Jonathan ground his teeth as he frantically dodged the blows Bruford was throwing at him. He didn’t have time to worry about Speedwagon and the kid, the only thing on his mind was survival. 

Where had the damn things come from? It was Dio’s work, that much was clear, but the scumbag hadn’t shown his face. But the way the knights had talked to each other, mentioning ‘orders’ and their ‘master’, told Jonathan that Dio was close by.

That bastard! Jonathan thought as Bruford’s sword swung dangerously close. I’m going to kill him!

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Dio still wasn’t there by the time the group made it to the Chain Neck Deathmatch. 

Erina was surprised, surely she hadn’t hit him that hard? 

She was about to go find him—after all, if he didn’t show up what was the point of this?—when Zeppeli died.

And, naturally, that was when Dio arrived.

She smirked at him, then leapt off into the distance. With the mood Jonathan was in, Dio was going to have a hard time getting out of there with his limbs still attached.

And as much as she wanted to see that, she couldn’t reveal herself yet.

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The second Erina left, Dio knew there was going to be trouble.

And he was right. 

He’d caught JoJo’s eye through the hole in the wall and immediately backpedalled. Whatever had gone down before he arrived had not been good, and Dio was not planning to stick around and find out exactly how JoJo would enact revenge for whatever Erina had done.

He’d made it back to the castle before daybreak, barely. 

Erina wasn’t there. 

Why would she be? JoJo was on his way and Dio doubted anything Speedwagon or Zeppeli could stop him now.

So, Dio sat patiently on his throne and waited for Death to arrive.

Chapter Text

Dio managed to separate his head from his Hamon-infused body as he fell. 

It was not a pleasant experience. 

Somehow, he managed to use his veins to swing himself out of free fall and onto the ground. Not that it mattered much, he supposed. The second the sun rose he was done for. Without a body, what could he do? 

He closed his eyes.

He’d done his best, there was nothing left to do. He thought of Zeppeli, gone because he hadn’t moved fast enough. He thought of the hundreds of other people Erina had devoured by now.

Tears dripped down his face.

He was going to die here and JoJo would marry Erina, and then she’d kill him too. 

And there was nothing he could do about it.

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Speedwagon left the castle as quickly as he could, leaving Jonathan with the Hamon wielders. Straizo had nodded at him, making no attempts to stop him. 

They all knew this fight was far from over.

Speedwagon walked around the base of the castle, calling out for Dio as loud as he dared to. 

He’d almost given up hope when he heard a voice reply.

Picking up the head, they talked, deciding on a course of action.

Dio spent the trip home shoved at the bottom of Speegwagon’s bag.

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Jonathan was surprised at how quickly they made it back to the Joestar Estate when they weren’t being attacked by zombies every five steps they took. Not that there was much to return to, just the burnt remains of his childhood home.

And Erina.

Wonderful, beautiful, Erina.

After his near-death experiences, Jonathan couldn’t wait any longer to marry her. He proposed and they were married within a month.

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Being a head was rather inconvenient. Not that there was much he could do about it—unless he cut off some random passerby’s head and took their body. 

But, in some ways, it was rather convenient. After all, Straizo and Dire would never have been able to sneak him on board the ship in their luggage.

Being locked in the luggage wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he had been shoved in smaller spaces. 

Silently, Dio swore to himself that he’d never travel this way ever again once this was all over.

And it would be over soon.

Erina was unaware of who Dire and Straizo were and JoJo was a bit too…preoccupied to notice them on the ship. As soon as Erina made her move, Dio would do his best to protect JoJo in the ensuing chaos.

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Dio was crying. He was a vampire, faster than anyone else in the world, and he’d still been too slow. 

For the third time.

Erina had taken Straizo and Dire out so quickly, Dio hadn’t seen it happen.

Luckily, she hadn’t known they were Hamon users, and her focus had been on Dio and JoJo, so they were just unconscious.

JoJo hadn’t been so lucky. He’d managed to use his Hamon to break the ship, and Erina had fled, but it was already too late.

He was bleeding, bleeding, blood all over his clothes, all over the floor. And Dio was crying, tears dripping off his disembodied head.

“Dio,” JoJo whispered, and for once in his stupid life, Dio paid proper attention to what his brother was saying. “I’m sorry for what I did to you…I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“I forgive you, JoJo,” Dio whispered, and JoJo smiled at him. It was just a shadow of what that smile used to be.

“Dio, take my body,” JoJo said, and Dio opened his mouth to protest, but he was cut off. “Do you see that baby on the stairs?”

When Dio nodded, he continued.

“Take my body and the baby and escape. Dire and Straizo are waking up, but you need to go now.”

“Goodbye, Dio.” 

His eye’s closed.

His brother was dead. Dio heard the second his heart stopped, and the second his breathing stopped. 

Tears still streaming down his face, he followed his brother’s last wishes and ran for the lifeboats.

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Dire and Straizo had made it out seconds after Dio, their Hamon increasing their healing capabilities. With Dio’s vampiric strength, they made it back to port before sun up.

They made their way to Speedwagon’s house—wet, cold, crying baby in their arms, and—most importantly—alive. 

Chapter Text

Erina had a dilemma. Well, more correctly, she'd had a dilemma for the past nine months. But, soon that dilemma would be a physical, squealing, newborn child.

The child was an important part of her plan. After all, when they eventually died in a tragic accident, it would be even more reason for her to retreat from the world.

It would go a long way for the public view of her after all.

But, that did mean she did have to care for the infant for at least three years.

The fortune was worth it though.

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Nine months.

That’s how long Dio had been hiding in London—striking down as many of Erina’s leftover minions as he could.

But now, he was heading back to the Joestar Estate.

It was almost time and Dio would be damned if he left JoJo’s child in the hands of that woman.

When she was weak from childbirth—the blood loss and physical strain of it all—he would strike.

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Straizo and Dire had left England, taking baby Elizabeth with them. Speedwagon had stayed with Dio, helping him hunt down Erina’s vampires and zombies.

Together, they’d found the Baron’s family and told them of his death.

Together, they had plotted and planned for nine months.

And now, Dio was going to take Erina out, while Speedwagon sat on the sidelines.

He didn’t mind, he knew that he would only be in danger if he tried to help. Without Hamon or vampiric powers, he was a sitting duck. 

So he stayed out of the fight.

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Dio wasn’t sure you could it a fight. A struggle maybe, but not a fight. It was over before it even really started.

Dio watched from a window as Erina’s body disintegrated in the sunlight. He looked down at the child in his arms—a baby boy.

He smiled slightly.

“What’s his name going t’be, Dio?”

Dio turned to Speedwagon and smiled.

“George. George Joestar, after his grandfather.”

Speedwagon smiled too, his eyes filling with tears.

“Now, that’s a name Mr Jonathan would be proud for his son to have.”

Chapter Text

“Where has that boy gotten to?” Dio grumbled. 

He’d just finished unpacking the last of his boxes in their new New York apartment. Stretching, he made his way to the kitchen, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the newly installed protective glass.

Thanks to the Speedwagon Foundation, Dio could function like a regular human inside this house.

He sighed, putting the kettle on the stove to boil.

I hope he hasn’t run into any trouble, he thought as he pulled a teacup out of the cupboard.

There was a loud bang from around the corner, the front door slamming open, and a flurry of frantic footsteps before it banged shut again.

Two heartbeats.

Odd.

I hope he’s made a new friend, and it's not the police chasing after him.

“I’m home, Gramps!”

Joseph barged into the kitchen, dragging a small dark-skinned boy behind him.

Dio pulled two more cups out of the cupboard.

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“I see,” Dio took a sip out of his tea. “So, the reason it took you over two hours to buy some food, is because you were rescuing this young man,” he nodded at the dark-skinned boy Joseph had neglected to introduce. “From corrupt, racist police officers?”

Both Joseph and the young man nodded enthusiastically. 

Dio sighed, shaking his head.

“I can’t exactly scold you for that, now can I?”

Joseph jumped out of his chair and ran over to Dio, hugging him.

“You’re the best, Gramps!”

Dio patted Joseph’s shoulder awkwardly. All these years and he still hadn’t quite figured out how to respond when the boy did this.

Eventually, Joseph returned to his seat next to the young man, across the round dining table from Dio.

Dio turned to the young man.

“Since my buffoon of a grandson had neglected to introduce us, my name is Dio Joestar.”

“N-nice to meet you, Mr Joestar. I’m Smokey. Uh—Smokey Brown.”

The poor boy looked extremely confused. 

Understandable. After all, Dio looked barely a year older than Joseph.

Seeing as Joseph wasn't going to explain—Dio was going to have to.

"Actually, I'm not Joseph's grandfather," Dio started. Smokey nodded slowly—waiting for an explanation of an inside joke.

"I'm his great-uncle. His grandfather's brother."

If there was a prize for the most confused person on the planet, Dio was sure Smokey would win it.

"Yep!" Joseph chimed in. "Gramps raised my dad after Grandpa Jonathan died, and then me after my dad died."

Dio took another sip of his tea. Someone had better explain the situation to poor Smokey.

Just a basic explanation should do, I think.

“Since Joseph rescued you, did you see him use Hamon?”

“H-hamon? Is that what those weird yellow sparks around the bottle cap were?”

Dio nodded.

“Simply put, Hamon is a special breathing technique that allows the user to harness the power of the sun. It’s more complex than that, with many applications: it slows people’s aging, enhances their strength, things like that. Primarily, it’s used as a combat technique.”

Despite his obvious scepticism, Smokey nodded. After all, he had witnessed Joseph’s Hamon first hand.

“So, uh, is that why you look so young, Mr Joestar? If that’s not to forward a question!” He hurriedly added.

Dio smiled wryly. If only his life was prolonged by Hamon.

“Something like that.”

It wouldn’t be good to confuse the young man by telling him vampires existed, let alone the fact that he was sitting in front of one.

Joseph clearly had no such worries.

“Gramps is a vampire!”

Smokey spat out his tea.

Dio took another sip of his tea as Smokey stared at him slack-jawed. 

Well, if he’s going to just say it, Dio thought, sending a dirty glance at Joseph, who sipped his tea nonchalantly. 

Setting his teacup down, Dio sighed.

“Thank you, Joseph.” Despite the obvious tone of frustration, Joseph smiled as if Dio had been being genuine.

That boy… Dio had half a mind to scold him, but the sound of Smokey releasing the teacup in his hand caught his ears.

He moved quickly, catching the cup before it hit the floor and placing it back on the table before a single drop could be spilt.

“Oh,” was the only thing Smokey said. 

Dio sympathised. Vampirism really wasn’t an easy thing to wrap one’s head about. It was probably in the boy’s best interest if he left it at that for the day, rather than explain the whole—extremely complicated—situation around how he became a vampire.

“Yeah!” Joseph started, not realising Smokey’s state of shock. “Gramps—”

“Look at the time!” Dio cut in, changing the subject. “The sun’s already set! We should go out for dinner. Speedwagon recommended a lovely restaurant downtown.”

Smokey started to stand up.

“I’ll be on my way then, Mr Joestar.”

“Nuh-uh,” Joseph said. “You’re coming with us.”

Dio resisted the urge to sigh again. Joseph was intent on terrifying this boy, wasn’t he? Couldn’t he have made a friend in a more conventional manner? Without the use of Hamon? 

“You don’t have to if you wouldn’t like to,” Dio said, attempting to make Joseph’s statement sound less threatening. “But you are more than welcome to join us. I’m sure Joseph would appreciate your company.”

Smokey’s heart rate sped up. Thanks to Joseph’s vampire comment, the poor boy probably thought he was on the menu.

Thankfully, Joseph noticed his friend’s distress.

“Don’t worry,” he said, laughing. “Gramps doesn’t eat people. He’s only drunk blood once that I know of, and that was donated by the Speedwagon Foundation. He eats regular food, just like you or me!”

Thank goodness he noticed. I doubt it would convince him if I told him that. It’d be like a wolf talking to a lamb.

Dio smiled at Smokey, who looked very relieved.

“Finish your tea and we’ll be on our way. There’s no rush. Joseph,” He turned to glare at his grand-nephew. “A word if you please. In the hall.”

Joseph looked around, searching for an exit, but quickly realised there was nowhere for him to run.

“Yes, Gramps.”

Chapter Text

Dio carefully closed the hall door behind himself, before rounding on Joseph.

“Idiot! Couldn’t you see the poor boy was barely processing what I’d told him about Hamon?” Dio attempted to keep his voice level, but he could barely contain himself. After all he’d gone through to keep the secret of the Stone Mask hidden, Joseph was going to spill it to the first person he met in New York? The boy had been trouble enough in London, perhaps Dio had been naive to think that the new continent would temper his behaviour.

Joseph held his hands up in a sign of surrender. 

“Jeez, Gramps, calm down! Your fingers are doing that creepy thing again.” 

Dio looked down at his hands, and—sure enough—the nails had grown into talons. He clicked his tongue, annoyed, and forced them to return to their usual length.

He sighed.

Perhaps he was overreacting.

Joseph was a smart boy. As much as he got into senseless fights (if he had one more phone call from the police station…), he wasn’t going to spill all the family secrets to someone they’d just met.

I really ought to trust him more.

“Sorry Joseph. I should know by now to trust your judgement.”

“Mhm, you should,” Joseph crossed his arms proudly, smirking. Then his expression turned concerned. “But, you’ve been on edge since before we left London. Is it because of Uncle Speedwagon?”

Dio nodded tiredly. Since he’d received news about Speedwagon heading to Mexico, he’d been on edge. He couldn’t even explain it. Something was coming, bigger than Erina and her petty schemes, and Dio wasn’t sure he was equipped to fight it.

Joseph frowned.

“Are you worried about him?” His eyes narrowed, connecting non-existent dots in his head. “Y’know, you and Speedwagon are pretty close…You aren’t secretly involved are you?”

Dio fixed him with a flat glare.

Joseph stared back.

…

……

………

Joseph threw his hands up.

“Okay, fine, jeez. I was only asking!”

Dio snorted.

✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩

The three of them had just sat down at their table when the hulking man started mouthing off.

“Waiter, waiter!” When a waiter rushed to that table, the man gestured at Smokey. “You let that stinking animal in here?”

Smokey turned away awkwardly, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else. Dio and Joseph stiffened, turning towards the man.

“Sir,” the poor waiter was saying. “As long as the bill gets paid, we let anyone eat here.”

“Bah,” the man shouted. “So you let animals like that eat animals in here?”

Smokey turned towards the exit, ashamed.

“I guess I’ll be on my way then.”

Joseph grabbed his wrist, pushing him back into his seat.

“JoJo!” Dio warned.

The boy turned slightly—already halfway out of his seat— a frown upon his face.

“What’s wrong Gramps? You aren’t gonna stop me, are you?”

Dio shook his head.

“No. People are entitled to their opinions, but he insulted our friend. Take him down, but be mindful of the other customers!”

A slightly maniacal grin grew on Joseph’s face.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ 

Joseph stood over the man.

“Don’t you get it? I can predict anything your simple brain can come up with, moron!”

He tossed the hat stand to the floor and returned to the table while the other patrons clapped.

A chair scraped across the floor, and Joseph turned fists raised.

A well-dressed man, who had been sitting close by, was making his way over to Dio.

Joseph made as if to stop him, but Dio gestured for him to wait.

The man glanced at Joseph before turning his attention to Dio.

“I apologise for my underling’s behaviour, sir.” 

Dio nodded, and—after a quick glance around the room—Joseph carefully sat back in his seat. 

“You’re Dio Joestar, aren’t you?” 

Dio nodded again. The man smiled.

“I do a lot of business with Mr Speedwagon. He told me about you in London a while back. I’m glad to meet you.”

Dio kept his face a mask of blank politeness, suspicious of his intentions. Judging by the man’s clothing and accent, he was probably involved with the local mafia. Whatever he wanted couldn’t be good.

“I heard something through the grapevine,” the man continued, standing at their table. “That hasn’t appeared in the papers yet.”

Dio arched an eyebrow. To his sides, he felt Joseph and Smokey exchange glances.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be good.

“And what have your sources heard that pertains to me, if I may ask?”

The mafioso’s face was grave.

“Mr Speedwagon has been killed.”

Chapter Text

Speedwagon…killed?

That couldn’t be right! Surely the man was mistaken—Speedwagon had survived Erina, he couldn’t be dead now! Who could have done this? As the founder of the Speedwagon Foundation, it's not like the man was without enemies. But for any of them to actually succeed? The chances were slim. Speedwagon was more than capable of taking care of himself and had proved it on multiple occasions.

“Rumor has it he was killed by a Tibetan monk,” The mafioso continued, undeterred by the reactions of Dio and the boys.

“A Tibetan monk…?” Joseph wondered out loud.

His eyes widened. 

“Straizo!”

Of course. No one else would have been close enough to Speedwagon to get in a hit. 

But why? What was on that dig that Straizo would be willing to kill one of his oldest friends for?

Unless...they actually found more!

“The bodies of Speedwagon and his team washed up along a river near Mexico. No one knows why they were killed or where the monk went.” The mafioso explained.

“JoJo!” Smokey shouted. “That man’s a mafioso! Don’t trust him! It must be a scheme!”

The mafioso shrugged, placing a cigar in his mouth.

“Believe what you want.” He fiddled in his pocket for a lighter.

Joseph scowled.

Dio saw the look and debated stopping him. But, if this was true...he’d have bigger problems than Joseph extending his—already far too long—criminal record.

I’ll have to find a way to contact her ...

“If you want a lighter,” Joseph said. “Try your breast pocket.”

The mafioso gasped—distracted—and Joseph grabbed him by his lapels.

“Thanks for the warning, Smokey, but I believe what he says. These assholes are only after money. Information like that is valuable to the mob, so I believe it. But!” He slammed his fist into the man’s stomach. “Even if it is true, you can’t just say it! Especially to Speedwagon’s close family! Can’t you see you’ve upset us? You’re thoughtless!”

Joseph shoved the mafioso into the table behind him. He ran back to Dio’s side, attempting to comfort him.

“Don’t be worried, Gramps. You can handle anything that comes your way.”

Dio shook his head.

“No, Joseph. I’m not worried for myself. I’m worried for you . If only the events of 50 years ago could have stayed in the past…”

Joseph squeezed his shoulder encouragingly.

“I’ll be fine. If it’s my fate, I’ll accept it. 

“I have no doubt that you will.”

✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩

It was quiet in the house. Well, as quiet as Joseph's snores would let it be.

Dio shook his head fondly as the operator connected him through to Italy. 

A young woman's voice trickled through, her lilting Italian cutting through the slight static.

" Air Supplena, Suzie Quattro speaking, how can I help you?"

"Hello Suzie, can I speak to Lisa Lisa?"

There was a delay—which could have been the distance of the call—before the phone changed hands.

"Hello?"

A familiar voice rang into Dio's ear. He smiled.

"Hello, 'Lizabeth."

Dio's smile grew wider at the soft string of curses in multiple languages. It seemed that after all this time, her cursing habits hadn't changed.

" Dio? " The shock in her voice faded. "Aren't you in New York? How are you even calling me?"

Dio smirked.

"I have my ways. But, you know I wouldn't call you without good reason."

"Hmph. You always say that."

"And I always have a good reason."

Usually have a good reason.

Elizabeth's sigh echoed down the line.

"What is it this time?"

Dio's smile dropped from his face, his voice dark and face grim.

"Speedwagon was murdered."

There was silence.

"Who."

Elizabeth's voice was cold, harsh.

"Who did it?"

Dio swallowed. She wasn't going to like this.

"The reports say a Tibetian monk was responsible."

The string of expletives that rang down the line made Dio smile wryly.

She hasn't changed at all .

"Do you know what happened?"

"Barely. Speedwagon was investigating an archeological site related to the Stone Mask. I hadn't heard from him in weeks. My...guess is he found something bigger than he bargained for."

There was silence on the line and—for a moment—Dio thought the call had been disconnected. A sigh broke the silence.

"I...haven't spoken to Straizo since I moved to Air Supplena, Dio. He…" Another sigh. "Neither of us dealt with Dire's death well. I threw myself into my work here. I'd assumed he drowned himself in training, the way he always did."

Dio hmmed in agreement.

He hadn't been overly close with the monk—not in the way that he was close with Speedwagon—but they had known each other for a long time. For Straizo to kill Speedwagon...Dio had almost had trouble reconciling this new information with the man who had helped save him from Erina and raised Elizabeth.

Almost.

"It appears," Dio said, slowly, carefully, considering his words as he spoke. "That perhaps Dire's passing influenced his decision to kill Speedwagon. He and Dire were inseparable, like brothers…perhaps…"

"He's looking for a way to bring him back?" Elisabeth questioned. "Is that even possible?"

"I doubt it. But I doubt Straizo is thinking rationally. Add the mask on top of it…" He shook his head. "Very little of the man who raised remains." 

Chapter Text

Dawn found Dio sitting at the kitchen table musing over the events of the night before.

He’d insisted Smokey stay the night, the risk of him being arrested for just being in the same restaurant as the brawl too high for Dio’s liking. Luckily, the three of them seemed to have escaped any sort of punishment for Joseph’s actions.

After his call to Elizabeth, Dio had prowled the house, alert for any signs of danger. If what he had suspected had come to pass and Straizo had truly killed Speedwagon, then there was no doubt that he would make his way to New York to find Dio and Joseph. As much as it pained Dio to think of harming his dear friend, Straizo was no longer the man he once was. The Mask corrupted a person in ways that they could never come back from. Dio had no idea how he escaped its influence.

He’d had plenty of time to muse over the Mask’s power, adding his own observations to the notes he and Jonathan had made when they had studied it together. In the last fifty years, he had barely made any progress in actually understanding the Mask’s power. He’s hoped that Speedwagon’s expedition would be able to shed some light on the origin of the Mask.

Perhaps it would have been better to let sleeping dogs lie…

If he hadn’t asked Speedwagon to go to Mexico, to investigate the hints that had been scattered through the books Dio had managed to find, Speedwagon would still be alive.

The dawn light crept higher through the glazed windows and Dio relaxed marginally. At least with the sun in the sky, Straizo’s advance would be slowed by a few hours.

✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩

Dio looked at the two boys standing in front of him

“I’m beginning to think that I should never let you two out of my sight again.”

They shuffled their feet awkwardly, looking down at the floor. Dio sighed and paced across the room in front of them.

“Really! I should think that a vampire running around who most likely wants Joseph dead would be enough to have you home before sunset! And you,” Dio turned a withering gaze unto Joseph. “Where on earth did you find a gun of all things?”

Joseph open his mouth to answer but Dio held up a hand.

“I don’t want to know. I’d like some plausible deniability for when the police come knocking at my door .”

Joseph looked thoroughly chagrined, though Dio doubted it would stop the boy from doing anything careless. And…Dio had to admit, he had managed to weasel some good information out of Straizo before the vampire had destroyed himself with his Hamon.

He took a deep breath, glancing quickly at his fingertips to make sure they hadn’t grown into talons in his frustration.

“Smokey, I am sorry that you have been involved with this. It is, after all, a family matter. You shouldn’t have been brought into this.”

“With all due respect Mr Joestar, from what I’ve heard, this is a bit more than a family matter. All these vampires and stone masks and stone men…this seems more of a world matter.”

Dio heard Joseph snigger a little, stifling it when Dio shot him a piercing glare.

“That may be Smokey, but you are still an innocent in this. You have no ties to Hamon or the Stone Masks—you shouldn’t have been dragged into this.”

“No offence, sir, but it seems like your tryin’ to scare me away.” Smokey met Dio’s eyes. “It’s a bit late for that and besides,” he shrugged, “I couldn’t just leave this all behind me knowing the world’s in danger.”

Dio sighed. He was brave—Dio would give him that.

He’ll probably regret this in the days to come…If he ever wants to escape this, I’ll do my best to ensure that he can live a life far away from this.

“Joseph.”

The boy stiffened, lifting his eyes from the floor.

“Yes, Gramps?”

“This is the third fight you’ve gotten into in three days, young man.”

“I—!”

Dio held up a hand, silencing him.

“And I thought a change of scenery would temper your violent ways…But I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it. Every fight so far has been for a just cause—so I won’t be unjust and punish you.”

A brief flash of relief flitted over Joseph’s face.

“Thanks a bunch, Gramps!”

Dio just shook his head.

“You’re lucky your Hamon is as strong as it is…Now go! Put the kettle on and make some tea.”

Joseph gave a mock salute and pulled Smokey into the kitchen with him. Dio shook his head fondly. Those boys would keep each other safe while he was gone.

✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩

“Where ya going, Gramps?”

Dio wheeled around, Joseph’s voice booming in the silence of the night. A few seconds ago the boy had been asleep in bed, how had he…? It didn’t matter now—Dio was caught.

Joseph raised an eyebrow, a single candle lighting his face as he leant against the wall at the top of the stairs. “It’s already past midnight. You wouldn’t make it anywhere before dawn. Besides,” he stepped down, moving closer to the front door where Dio stood. “You do realise Mexico is a desert right? Early sunrise and all.”

Dio huffed, of course his idiot grandson was trying to save him.

“I would be fine, Joseph. I am much, much more powerful than you.”

“Unless you got caught in an early sunrise,” Joseph pointed out. “Though, maybe that outfit of yours keeps enough skin covered.”

Dio sniffed. Why Joseph insisted on mocking his dress shirt and waistcoat, Dio would never understand. It wasn’t as if anything Joseph wore could be described as fashionable .

“Seriously though Gramps,” Joseph leant against the railing at the bottom of the stairs. “You know that. You taught me geography. So what is this? Some kind of suicide mission? We find out Uncle’s alive and the first thing you want to do is throw yourself under the desert sun? Come on Gramps, we’ve been here three days . You can’t go throwing yourself away!” Joseph finished passionately, uncaring that his volume might wake Smokey sleeping in the guest room just above them.

You can’t leave me alone went unspoken. Dio knew that for as long as Joseph could remember, there had been two constant figures in his life—himself and Speedwagon. George had died and Elizabeth left long before Joseph was old enough to remember them and—as much as it pained him—Dio did his best to keep Elizabeth’s existence a secret from the boy. For him to leave on what very well could be a suicide mission to find and rescue Speedwagon, Joseph would lose both of the people who had cared for him his entire life. 

Dio smiled sadly. For all his bravado, Joseph really was still a child, not even as old as he had been when he had transformed. It wouldn’t be fair to abandon him in favour of finding someone who might not be alive. But…

“Joseph. I understand where you’re coming from, but…”

“You don’t want to abandon Speedwagon.”

Dio nodded.

“I don’t either, Gramps. That’s why I’m going to go look for him. Tomorrow.” He kept talking, ignoring Dio’s sounds of protest. “You stay here in case he somehow makes his way back here.”

Joseph moved closer to Dio, the candle now on the hall table casting the room in an eerie, flickering light. 

“Speedwagon’s alive, we both know it. It’d take more than a puny vampire to kill him. We just have to find him before something else can.”

Chapter Text

In the days after Joseph's departure to Mexico, Dio kept himself busy re-reading all the papers and files he had that related to the Stone Masks. Smokey was a great help—emptying packing boxes full of books and placing them on the shelves, handing Dio the titles he was looking for with ease. The young man's help was greatly appreciated. 

Amongst Dio's collection of books—built up over the last 50 years—were many books that caught Smokey's interest.

"You're welcome to any of these whenever you wish," Dio informed him, placing a carefully bound folder on the study's desk. The study was on the second floor of the house, the walls covered with bookshelves from ceiling to floor, except for a window facing out onto the busy New York street.

"Thank you Mr Joestar, but…" Smokey inspected the first page of a book on American law. "...I think these are a bit above my reading level."

Dio frowned. Smokey was the same age as Joseph, surely he had attended some form of education...?

Oh. Right.

American's , Dio thought bitterly.

"Not to worry," Dio assured him. "I didn't really learn to read until I was a teen. I'd be happy to teach you if you like."

"Really?"

"Of course. I taught Joseph and his father, it would be a simple matter to help you."

Smokey shook his head.

"No, I meant about not learning to read until you were a teen."

Dio turned to the boy in surprise.

"You don't know? I assumed Joseph and his big mouth would have told you everything about me by now." Dio shook his head fondly and began to untie the folder.

"I grew up in the London slums. My mother was a seamstress and my father was a good-for-nothing drunkard. By some twist of fate, he had managed to earn a favour from the local lord. Just before he died, he called in the favour and after his death, I was taken in by Lord Joestar and his family."

Dio rifled through the papers, sorting them into piles on the desk.

"I didn't know how to do anything properly before then."

✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩

It took Dio the better part of that first day, trying to think of a way to tell Lizabeth what had happened. 

“Oh yes, hello, my darling daughter-in-law, your son just helped obliterate your adoptive father because he killed our mutual friend” didn’t really seem like a good way to break the news.

Dio sighed, scratching out a line he’d written on the page before him. He was attempting to write a sort of script he supposed, to help him explain the situation concisely, without being…uncaring.

He stared at the paper for many hours, adding and subtracting things. So what if he was simply crossing things out to write them again—it had to be perfect. He was snapped out of his procrastination by the hall phone ringing.

Startled, he looked up and could see that, outside, the moon had risen, bathing the office in its silvery light.

He blinked, surprised.

The hall phone continued to ring—extremely loud to Dio’s sensitive hearing.

He quickly moved to answer it before it woke Smokey, who was sleeping in the guest room.

“Joestar residence, Dio Joestar speaking.”

“Dio!” Elizabeth’s voice crackled through the line. “It’s been two days, I thought…” She trailed off and Dio grimaced slightly. He probably should have called earlier. She was probably worried sick about Joseph.

“I apologise, Lizabeth. I should have called sooner.” Dio sighed. “Straizo…has been taken care of. He…destroyed himself with his Hamon rather than lose in a fight.”

“His Hamon!? Are you alright?”

“Me? Ah. No, no, I’m fine. I wasn’t near him at the time. No, Joseph was the one to fight him. I only arrived for the final moments of the fight.”

“Joseph? My Joseph? Dio…” her voice grew dark. “Dio, I specifically left to keep him away from Hamon and this family’s shit.”

Dio sighed.

“I am aware of that Lizabeth. But, the boy has considerable Hamon talent—even untrained. And…if the Masks are making an appearance again, I don’t think we’ll be able to keep him out of it. He’s headstrong and reckless, but he has a good heart. If he feels that the world is in danger, he’ll get himself involved without a second thought to your wishes.”

There was a pause over the phone.

“What about Speedwagon? Did they find his body?”

“Joseph is looking for him now. He left this morning for Mexico. I would have gone myself but—”

“Absolutely not!” Elizabeth passionately cut in. “Mexico, Dio? You’d get caught out in the sun!”

Dio smiled wryly.

“That’s exactly what Joseph said.”

“Hmph, some of my good sense made it into the Joestar blood then. Good. Goodbye Dio, don’t forget to update me on the situation this time.”

She hung up and Dio couldn’t help but smile.

Even without her influence, Joseph was so similar to how he remembered Lizabeth at his age.

✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩

Logically, Dio knew that travelling from New York to Mexico would take several days—during which he wouldn’t be able to contact Joseph. That didn’t make him any less worried. Several times already he had woken in a cold sweat or frozen suddenly, knowing—thanks to some sixth sense—that Joseph was doing something foolish. 

To prevent himself from worrying himself to death (if it was possible, Dio was sure Joseph would be the cause), Dio spent his time helping Smokey with his reading and organising the study.

Smokey was a surprisingly capable reader, though he appeared to be mostly self-taught. Dio had quickly discovered that the majority of the books in his study were far beyond the boy’s capabilities and had begun digging through the boxes to find things that were of a more appropriate reading level.

Sherlock Holmes was proving slightly difficult but was being thoroughly enjoyed. The Wizard of Oz had been enjoyed as well but had almost been too easy. However, Dio was not too concerned about how easy or difficult the boy found the reading—as long as he was enjoying it.

“I believe that these are the last of the ones that I would consider ‘easy’,” Dio said, slotting Peter Pan onto one of the shelves. “I do have more fiction, but it is up to you whether you attempt to read them.”

“Thank you, Mr Joestar.” Smokey inspected the shelf and ran his finger along the spines of the books. "You have quite a large collection…I wonder if I'll be able to read even half of these…"

Dio placed his hand on Smokey’s shoulder.

“I am sure that you will be able to read all of them.”

Chapter Text

The last few days had been a flurry of activity. Joseph had returned, Speedwagon in tow. The two looked injured and unwell and Dio was hesitant to send them onto the next step in their journey.

The tale they spun him of men trapped in pillars and Nazi experiments was may have seemed far fetched to some, but at this point, what else was to be expected? Both Speedwagon and Joseph were insistent that they must go to Rome and meet Caesar Zeppeli.

They were all sitting in the lounge room, Joseph regaling Smokey with stories from his trip. Some of the stories made Dio twitch—tequila? Really?—but he mostly ignored the boys as he discussed the situation with Speedwagon.

“I believe that ‘Lizbeth has mentioned Caesar before,” Dio said. “If you two are successful in meeting him and enlisting his help there is a chance that he’ll take Joseph to meet her. She is the only Hamon master in Europe, after all.”

Speedwagon shrugged.

“She’ll have to deal with that. We can’t let these bastards take over the world, Dio.”

Dio sighed, leaning back in his armchair.

“I know…” He took a sip of his wine. “You know, Speedwagon, I’m beginning to think this family is cursed.”

Speedwagon sighed, also sipping his wine.

“I’d be inclined to agree with you, Dio. Every tale I’ve heard about the Joestars seems to end in tragedy.”

Dio gazed across at Joseph, who was dramatically telling Smokey about his battle with Santana.

“For their sake, I hope we’re wrong.”

✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩

Barely three days after their return, Speedwagon and Joseph were off to Rome. Dio silently prayed that Joseph wouldn’t embarrass himself terribly, but he knew it was futile—Joseph’s special skill was making a fool of himself and being completely unaware of it.

In the few days that he’d been in New York, Speedwagon had helped Dio organise his study, pulling out any notes on the Stone Mask. It was unfortunate that Jonathan’s notes had been lost in the fire—they were sure to be much more accurate than Dio’s own notes. In fact, Dio suspected that the Joestar’s library may have housed many of Lady Joestar’s notes on the Mask and the other artifacts she had collected over the years. 

So much had been lost when Jonathan had burnt the manor. 

Speedwagon had also reached out through his foundation, searching for anything that related to the Pillar Men. A surprising amount of information was delivered to Dio—books on Mexican folklore and papers written by long-dead archeologists on the strange carving underneath the Colleseum. There were now piles of papers and books on his desk, sorted by what he thought most relevant. The stacks may have looked daunting to another, but Dio was able to make use of the hours that most used for sleeping. He would pore through the books in no time at all.

It was one of the greatest advantages to his immortal body, in Dio’s opinion.

Together, Dio and Smokey spent the majority of their time in the study, both reading as if their lives depended on it. Of course, Smokey wasn’t reading anything as dire as tales of people being absorbed into living stone.

The young man was quickly progressing through the books Dio had suggested to him. He was naturally intelligent and quickly moved away from the fiction on the shelves, finding old textbooks and reading them. At mealtimes, Smokey excitedly talked to Dio about everything he was reading about, showing remarkable understanding. Dio would be lying if he didn’t see a version of himself in the boy—one who wasn’t corrupted by his past.

Dio was happy to have the boy’s company, but he had been staying at the townhouse for over a week now, without returning to wherever he’d been staying previously. He didn’t want to pry, but to say he wasn’t concerned would be lying. After all, if someone was looking for him, a week was a long time to be missing.

So, one night at dinner, he brought it up.

“Smokey, please don’t take this the wrong way dear boy, but don’t you have somewhere to return?”

When the young man looked at him blankly, he elaborated.

“Well, you’ve been staying here for almost two weeks. Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” he added hastily, “but surely you have someone you were staying with before all this? A family member, a friend?”

Smokey shrugged, looking down at his plate, not answering.

Dio frowned, concerned. He’d known the boy was a pick-pocket, but in his experience, even small-time pickpockets were part of something bigger—giving up the majority of their loot in exchange for a warm place to sleep. Dio also knew that pickpocketing without pledging loyalty to one group or another tended to end badly. He’d received enough beatings from men twice his size to know to stick with scamming people at chess.

Smokey continued to sullenly eat his food, stopping his excited stream of chatter about Greek history. Dio didn’t push—he understood that it was a sensitive topic.

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke again.

“When I was eight, I started picking pockets. It only lasted a few months and I was rarely able to hold onto anything I stole. The London slums have plenty of gangs and none of them took kindly to my refusal to pledge allegiance.”

Smokey was no longer pushing food around his plate and was paying full attention to Dio.

“When pickpocketing didn’t turn a profit, I started scamming people at chess. I might not have been championship level, but I was better than the average scum that lurked in the local pubs.

“But I was lucky. The Joestars took me in, gave me a home, an education. And I know that I have no idea what you’ve gone through or what your story is. But I don’t want anyone to go anywhere near the path I was going down.”

“...I wasn’t staying anywhere,” Smokey confessed. “I moved around, I knew a few people, but mainly just the streets. And,” he added quickly. “I wasn’t associated with the mafia or anything. I know its kind of suspicious ‘cause I knew that mafioso the other night, but I wasn’t! I stayed here cause…you didn’t seem like you were going to kick me out and Joseph’s my friend.” He paused for a bit. “But I understand if you want me to leave.”

“Dear boy, of course, I don’t want you to leave! It’s been wonderful having you here! You’re welcome to stay for as long as you’d like. I know Joseph has enjoyed having a friend so close by.”

Despite Joseph’s charisma, he’d never had any particularly close friends. It was nothing short of a miracle that on his first day in America, he’d made such a close friend. It was the one bright spot in this mess.

The two of them finished their dinner and Dio returned to the study to continue his research. Smokey, book in hand, retired for the night.

As Dio studied long into the night, he was glad that he could offer Smokey the help he’d been granted as a teen. He’d only known the boy for a short time, but he had grown fond of him. In fact, he thought of him as family.

Dio prayed that the Joestar curse wouldn’t affect the boy.

Chapter Text

It was a lovely afternoon, the last golden sunlight of the day trickling in through the glazed windows in the lounge room. Smokey was still in the study, reading, as was his habit at this time of day. Dio sipped his tea, reclining in his armchair, listening to the sounds of the house. Smokey’s breathing, the rustle of pages being turned, the wood settling—sounds he was becoming increasingly familiar with as he grew accustomed to the house.

A piercing ring echoed through the house, startling him. The hall phone was ringing. Frowning slightly, he went to answer it. As he picked up the phone, he saw Smokey poke his head out from the study and then—satisfied the phone had been answered—return to the study.

“Hello, Dio Joestar speaking. How may I help you?”

He wasn’t expecting a phone call, but only a handful of people would be calling him.

What is the time difference between here and Italy?

“Dio.” Elizabeth’s voice crackled down the line and Dio felt a mild surge of panic. Elizabeth did not sound happy and given that she was one of the last Hamon users in the world, he did his best to stay on her good side. “Care to explain to me why my son showed up on my doorstep this morning, Caesar Zeppeli in tow?”

Dio raised his eyebrows.

“Joseph?”

He’d known that there was a chance that Caesar Zeppeli would lead Joseph to Lizbeth but he’d assumed Speedwagon would have let her know in advance. Speedwagon was on his way back to America already, surely he’d have given her at least a warning. Unless… Dio had a sudden memory of the call he’d gotten from Speedwagon a few days prior. 

Oh dear...

“Joseph? Yes, Joseph! I only have one son as you very well know! I told you to keep me updated! How on earth am I supposed to know things if you don’t tell me!” Elizabeth raged at him and Dio was very glad there was an ocean separating him from his niece.

“Lizbeth…I am sorry.” He heard her huff. “Truly! I was even reminded and I forgot to call you. Between organising the new house, my research and teaching…it…slipped my mind.”

Elizabeth harumphed, but she seemed less aggravated. She’d known Dio her whole life and could recognise when something had genuinely slipped his mind.

“So, a student? Seems we’ve both got our hands on some of those,” Lizbeth smoothly redirected the conversation.

“Indeed,” Dio said dryly. “Though if your training methods are as harsh as the ones you went through yourself—I worry for the survival of yours.”

Lizbeth laughed.

“They’ll be fine. Joseph is my son after all and Caeser has been through worse. What poor person is being subjected to your teaching methods?”

Dio raised an eyebrow. All the tales he’d heard of the hellish training regimes of Hamon users made him doubt anyone had been through worse—he wouldn’t be surprised if they were currently being forced to climb an oil-slicked pillar with only their powers. It wouldn’t even be the worst training Lizbeth would put them through, he was sure.

“ My teaching methods? Do you have a complaint about the quality of your education?” Dio teased.

Elizabeth laughed and Dio let the conversation flow from there.

✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩ - - - ✩

From then, Lizbeth’s afternoon calls became more frequent. She kept him informed on the boys’ progress and the developing situation with the Pillar Men, though she was missing details herself.

This continued for several weeks. Dio spent his days teaching Smokey and trawling through his notes for anything related to the Stone Masks that he might have missed in the years following Erina’s defeat. He met with little success in that regard. However, he succeeded greatly in the first. Smokey was an intelligent boy with a hunger for learning. When Dio wasn’t instructing him on one matter or another, the boy was devouring the books in the library as fast as he could.

January dragged on and was much warmer than Dio had expected having spent so much of his life in the English countryside. Much like London, New York was much warmer than the surrounding regions due to the dense population. Dio took advantage of the cooler weather and shorter days, often leaving the house in the afternoon for trips to the libraries and museums around the city. Occasionally Smokey would accompany Dio, but after a few incidents early on, the two had agreed that it was best if Smokey stayed in the townhouse. It grated on Dio every time he had to leave the boy behind but he made sure to bring back any books that the boy would find interesting when he went to the libraries.

One afternoon, in mid-February, Dio answered the phone—not to Lizbeth’s scathing remarks and witty commentary on the progress and failures of the final exam the boys’ were supposed to have taken the night before—but to a frantic stream of Italian from the young girl who had answered the phone when he first called.

It took him a minute to calm her down and get anything other than garbled words through the telephone, but she eventually calmed enough to speak to him.

Her words froze him.

“ They’re chasing the gem to Switzerland. The Pillar Men took it but they insisted they could get it back. I don’t know if Miss Lisa Lisa will be able to call you, so I thought you should know…”

He thanked her and returned the phone to the hook.

There was nothing he could do except pray.

And what god would listen to him?

Chapter Text

For once, the weather matches the mood , Dio thought. The rain was a steady drizzle, casting the world in a gloomy grey light. The clouds blocked the spring sun and Dio could have walked outside without the protection of the large black umbrella he carried.

Next to him, Elizabeth, Speedwagon, and Smokey huddled under their own umbrellas. Not a word was spoken as they stood, staring at the cenotaph in front of them.

Joseph Joestar

Born 1920

Dead 1939

Dio bowed his head, ignoring the tears he could feel building. He had failed. He had let Joseph get involved in a fight that Lizabeth had given everything to keep him out of and now—now he would never hear another stupid pun as the boy ran into the kitchen for tea. He’d never watch the boy outgrow his childish mannerisms and become a man. Like his father and grandfather before him, he had had his life cut short by a power far beyond their ability to combat. But, Joseph’s sacrifice had not been in vain. Dio wasn’t sure how, but whatever that foolish boy had done had put an end to Kars and his delusions of power. He was still fuzzy on the details—neither Smokey, Speedwagon, nor Elizabeth had been in the best position at the time to see and Dio was still human enough to understand how fear and adrenaline affected memories.

Another person I failed.

Dio looked over at Smokey. The boy was barely holding back tears, his hand clenched so tightly around the handle of his umbrella that Dio was afraid it would break. Ever since he had returned from Switzerland, the boy had been subdued. He continued his studies under Dio, but his previous love of learning had been buried under the immense sadness he now felt. Dio had done his best to offer the boy some comfort—but it had never been his strength. Those first few nights after Smokey had returned to New York with Speedwagon and Elizabeth were difficult. Dio’s sharp hearing could easily pick out when Smokey woke during the night, screams dying in his throat as nightmares tormented him. The bags under the boy's eyes didn’t escape the notice of any of the adults in the house and Dio was sure that their concerned looks also didn’t escape Smokey’s notice. He was sure that the cups of tea, gently placed on Smokey’s bedside table while the boy pretended that he was still sleeping, didn’t escape Smokey’s notice, even if they were never acknowledged except for empty tea cups by the kitchen sink and—once—a small, whispered: “thank you”.

Another name on the list.

Speedwagon and Lizabeth stood side-by-side, crowded under Speedwagon’s umbrella. Speedwagon’s hand rested on Lizabeth’s shoulder as she faced the cenotaph, eyes shrouded by a black veil. No mother should have to bury her child. Elizabeth had cut herself from Joseph’s life, had done her very best to prevent this from happening, and he had failed to keep his promise to protect Joseph from this life.

Another promise broken.

Speedwagon had been the one to tell him the news. Lizabeth had been distraught, even days after the event, and Smokey…Smokey was worse. All of them had experienced this kind of extreme loss before, but Smokey…he was never meant to be exposed to this world of Hamon and vampires and Stone Masks. They had sat in the lounge room, tea cups in hand, two old friends watching the afternoon shadows move across the room. Dio had known already that he would never see his nephew again but he’d needed to hear it. Speedwagon told him the story as he knew it—Joseph and Caesar’s time on Air Supplena, their race against time to Switzerland, the duels against Wammu, and Kars ascension to godhood. Dio had listened silently, teacup gripped as tightly as he dared without shattering the china with his inhuman strength. They remained in silence even after Speedwagon had finished—mourning the loss of one they both considered a son.

I’m sorry, Joseph…

Dio’s vision went dark, eyes covered with hands from behind. He straightened, nails lengthening into talons to slash at his attacker when a familiar voice rang in his ear.

“Guess who~?”

It…it can’t be…! As one the group gasped and turned to face the newcomer.

“Hey, everybody!” Joseph called out happily. “I finally got to New York and nobody was there to meet me! So, I heard you all were at a funeral. I looked everywhere for you all!”

He turned, greeting Lizabeth.

“Yo, Master Lisa-Lisa! Are you all healed up?” He didn’t even wait for her to reply before launching onto the next thought that came into his head. “I wanted to ask Stronheim to fix my hand up with some gadgets, but it looks like this war with the Germans—Woah, Gramps, what’s with that murderous glare? Wait! Is that my name on that gravestone?!?”

“I am going to murder you,” Dio growled.

Joseph chuckled nervously, hands raised in the air.

“Wait, what, why? Didn’t you get my telegram? Suzie, Suzie, tell him you sent the telegram!”

A pretty blonde girl that Dio hadn’t noticed in his shock and rage tilted her head to the side.

“Telegram?”

“Suzie!”

Before the boy could berate his companion though, Dio pulled him into a tight hug.

“Ack, Gramps, let go!”

“No. I shan’t."

"Welcome home, my boy.”