Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I.

Dante hears demons, because of course there are demons here. And he almost always hears them before he sees them; the bastards weren’t known for being quiet about their approach. It’s not great timing, as he actually has somewhere to be. The cathedral or whatever. The big building with the big dome, easy enough even for him to find. Yet he finds himself sighing and looking for the horde. He might have a job to do, but there was also that pesky bit about his civic duty as a demon hunter, protecting the populace, blah blah blah…

It takes a moment to pinpoint where the demonic ruckus is coming from. A few quick hops over the rooftops, and he’s just about there. He reaches for Rebellion. But just as he leans over the edge of the rooftop, ready to leap down and give the demons a hell of a surprise, he’s instead met with an unexpected sight.

Someone’s already taking care of them. Which, honestly, is a nice change of pace. Let someone else do the dirty work for once. From high up, Dante can’t really see the man’s face, or much of anything besides his dark blue coat and his… hair. His very light and, dare he say, silver hair.

His heart thumps hard against his chest, and he’s left a little bewildered. No, there’s no way. It has to be a trick of the light. Or maybe it’s dyed, like a platinum blond, with emphasis on the platinum. There has to be an explanation, he thinks. His mission temporarily forgotten, Dante hangs back a bit and watches as the man fights the demons. A small bunch of them, weak individually but deadlier in a group, and yet despite the man fighting handicapped (he has an arm in a sling), he takes them on without a hint of hesitation. He punches and kicks, knocking them back and sending them flying once he gets his hand on a blade. He runs along the side of the building and hops on their heads like he’s playing the deadliest game of hopscotch. He ducks and weaves around them despite their fast swings. He even tosses one of them, bare handed.

That’s not something your average human can do.

The cathedral bell tolls as the last demon dies, and both men look up towards the cathedral in the distance. The man below sprints towards it, and Dante watches him leave. Something sits heavy in his chest, and yet paradoxically he feels a little lightheaded. His heart’s racing. That man, he fought much like…

Focus. Now is so not the time to be getting distracted. Dante eyes the cathedral, wondering if he can find a way in from the top. Even he won’t just stroll in. The people here treat strangers like a cat treats an open body of water, just with less hissing and more passive aggressive, disapproving stares. No, he’s going to have to find a different way in.

As for getting out… Dante rolls his shoulders and begins to move. He’ll have to fight his way out. They weren’t going to just let him come out the way he came, whatever that will wind up being. Not after he shoots their psycho leader in the face.

II.

And because he’s, well, himself, Dante opts for the dramatic entrance: straight through the stained glass dome where he lands dead center in front of the old man. Sanctus? Sanctum? Santorum? Whatever it is, it’s not going to matter in a few seconds.

The shock of his entrance buys him time, just a few precious seconds for him to pull out Ivory and shoot the aghast expression right off the old fart’s face. Blood sprays across his cheek and nose. Also probably on his clothes, but that’s the great thing about wearing red. He won’t find the stains until later and so he doesn’t have to worry about them.

The old man goes down and the room is very, very silent. It won’t be for long, he knows. The shock will wear off quickly enough. And sure enough, as he straightens up from his crouch, reality sets in and the whole room goes nuts. People start screaming, the guards shout and draw out their swords to charge, everyone is panicking. Readying himself for a fight, Dante fully turns around…

...and comes face to face with the man from the street. The man – no, he’s a boy, he can’t even be in his twenties yet. The kid who’s staring at him, still and silent and unafraid unlike everyone else around him. The kid who has the same light blue eyes and silver hair – yes, it’s definitely silver, there’s no mistaking it now – as him.

Or perhaps, he realizes in that fated moment, it’s more like he has the same eyes and hair and nose and stature as his brother. Because that is most certainly the same icy-eyed glare he’s getting from him. It’s like staring down Vergil all over again and that kicks up so many emotions Dante can’t even begin to pin them down with words. Somehow, in this walled-off secluded town that worships his father, he’s found his brother’s kid. Because who else could he be? How else could he have those features and that strength he saw earlier? Dante’s never been to this part of the world, and that’s not even getting into the very, very low number of women he’s slept with. He’s never been gladder for his ability to keep a straight face, because he would have toppled over otherwise.

It’s his turn to be friggin’ shocked, albeit for an entirely different reason than everyone else. His throat damn near closes and he has absolutely no idea how to proceed.

This life-changing moment gets interrupted by some pissed off guards, who are coming at him with their swords drawn. They circle around him, blades pointed at him in an attempt to be menacing. He’s not fazed, of course, but at least the guards are providing a much needed distraction. He backflips off the podium and kicks one of them back. Rebellion’s drawn and he takes them on. It’s not a hard fight. Not that he expected it to be, but he can’t help but notice that something’s a little… off about these guys. Something not quite right. Something not quite human. It’s in the way they swing and the look in their eyes, as much as he can see them under those hoods. He has a bad feeling the intel he dug up on this group is more spot on than he hoped.

After having a little fun with them, he kills the last of them. He circles around to the back, where one of the guards is holding the old man, feebly trying to stop his bleeding and see if there’s any way of saving him. Dante has no intention of fighting him if he doesn’t come at him; he’s mostly checking to make sure the geezer’s dead before moving on.

He makes towards him when he hears a girl cry out a name. He turns around, and instead finds one of the guards he thought he had dispatched getting up to attack him. He knocks him back, which in turn makes him collide with the girl who was standing behind the kid earlier. She falls to the ground, whimpering in pain as she struggles to stand up. He takes a step towards her, wondering if he should help her up. Maybe show that he’s not here to murder everyone. He certainly doesn’t want to hurt her.

It’s at once the best and worst thing he could have done.

So it seems the girl means something to the kid because he does not take kindly to Dante going anywhere near her. Okay, he can’t exactly blame him, but he still doesn’t think that quite deserves the goddamn drop kick into his face. Which is surprisingly strong enough to send Dante flying up and back towards the statue of his father. Somehow he feels like there’s a metaphor waiting to be made in that, but he doesn’t even have time to maneuver himself, let alone figure that out. The kid shoots at him and he barely is able to swing Rebellion down in time to block the two bullets. That he fired at once. What kind of gun does he have?

And he doesn’t even have time to figure that out, because Rebellion’s now stuck squarely in his dad’s statue’s head (that has to be a metaphor, too, or at least enough for a stupid joke) and before he can even pull it out, the kid’s flying up at him and he’s forced to ditch his sword. There’s another flurry of movement, and before he knows it, he has his guns pointed at the kid. And the kid’s doing the same.

Great. He’s pointing his weapons at what is possibly the only family he has left in the world. Especially when, two hours ago, he thought he had none.

But, as the kid shouts at his friends to get out of here, he realizes that this is an opportunity. They’re alone a moment later, and now he can put the kid through some paces. See what he’s made of. See if he’s really his nephew, a member of his family. He won’t kill him, though he’s sure the kid is going to try his damnedest to kill him. That’s okay. He’s not going to lose to him. He doesn’t even have to go all out. Just enough to test him and get a feel for what he can do.

It’s not like he can introduce himself properly anyway. ‘Oh, yes, sure, I just shot your leader in the head, but hear me out. My name is Dante, and I’m relatively certain I’m your uncle.’ Yeah, not happening.

The kid shakes off his headphones, mutters something about not holding his breath before he shoots. Dante dodges, and shit kicks off.

The kid’s a fearless fighter, unafraid of getting close and grappling with him. They exchange blows and bullets, the kid fighting with an intensity matched by his confidence. Dante, for his part, kind of fucks around a bit with him. He’s having fun. But he’s also taking note of a few things, and his mental notes are as follows:

1. The kid is damn strong. He dislodged the statue’s sword with his legs alone. It is not a small statue, nor is it a small sword. And it’s made entirely out of stone.
2. They have swords here that have engines built into them or something and he is so jealous. Why can’t Rebellion do that?
3. Said kid is also taking this – and himself – way too seriously and it’s taking Dante everything he has not to laugh at him. But it’s also another thing to add to the ever growing pile of circumstantial evidence that this kid is Vergil 2.0.
4. Oh yeah, and the kid has a devil arm.

No, not like Rebellion or Alastor or Cerberus are Devil Arms. The kid’s arm is literally demonic, and very damn strong since it just stopped his Stinger dead in its tracks. This is the most unexpected thing yet, aside from, you know, the kid’s existence.

“You’ve got a trick up your sleeve.” He could never pass up a good pun.

“I thought the cat had your tongue.” The kid shifts his arm. “But if it’s a trick you’re looking for, then try this!” He shoves him back, and the arm’s strong enough to really send Dante skidding. He’s impressed. By the arm and by the kid’s grasp of good word play.

Okay, look, he’s not about to drop the entirety of the (possible) truth bomb fully on this kid, but given that he clearly has a demonic arm, parts of it are worth pointing out at this rate. “Looks like you, too, are a-”

And the little shit doesn’t let him finish. Dante turns around and the kid’s hauling that stone sword up with his demonic arm and chucks it straight at his head. It only takes a step back to dodge it, but judging by the ruckus and the resulting destruction the sword leaves in its wake, it’s a really damn good thing he looked back when he did.

“Hate to interrupt,” the kids says, not sounding sorry at all, “but I wanna wrap this show up before the cavalry arrives.” He dusts off his hands, smirking a little.

Dante has a feeling that arm is going to be a problem.

He’s not wrong, as he finds out a few grapples and one overhead toss later.

He lands the toss well enough, sitting against a bench as it crashes against a pile of them. They’re really wrecking this room, but hey, not his circus, not his monkeys, and certainly not his problem. “So, you’re lookin’ to play, huh.” The kid’s panting a bit, getting a little worn out. So he doesn’t quite have the stamina that Vergil had, or that Dante has. But that doesn’t mean Dante’s about to let up. “All right, I guess I got some time to kill,” he finishes, like he hasn’t been doing that the entire time.

“Tough guy, huh? Well…” Kid grabs the cool engine sword, stalling for a second. He’s going to try and pull a fast move, which Dante sees coming from a mile away. He’s already jumping out of the way before the bench is even halfway to him, but the kid’s just as ready. There’s a midair collision, a couple clashes, and then they’re back on the ground.

Well, he is, anyway. He turns and finds the kid on top of the ever growing pile of benches. Oh, he’s trying to one up him now. Well then.

“I think I’ll have to take you down a couple notches,” the kid says, smirking a little as he watches him from on high.

That is so not going to happen, but he appreciates the kid’s chutzpah. “Whatever you say, kid.”

So far, he’s tested his skills with a gun, a sword, and what the arm is capable of. And now he’s going to see how the kid handles all three at once. He still holds back a fair bit, but he ups the pressure a notch as he battles him, absorbing some of those bullets and slashes for the sake of encouraging the kid to keep going.

What the kid lacks in variety and expertise, he mostly makes up for in raw strength and relentlessness. There are a few blows that honestly take Dante by surprise, and one in particular that eventually finishes the fight. The kid whips his devil arm at him, and despite Rebellion taking the brunt of the blow, Dante’s sent flying back. Not a problem in and of itself, save that he underestimated how fast the kid is. Suddenly his leg’s being grabbed and he’s slammed to the ground. His sword goes flying, the kid has him by his head, and he’s being repeatedly pummeled by a demonic fist. In his face.

There’s a moment where the pain is enough that his devil form tries to come out in response. Dante forces it back. He does not want things to go that far.

Finally finished with beating his face in, the kid tosses him at the statue. His back slams into it, and a moment later, he feels Rebellion tear into his chest. Ow. It’s been awhile since he was run through like this. Even longer since it was Rebellion. Hell, the last time that happened was –

Oh.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

It’s aggravating but funny all at once, and he almost laughs at the parallel. But he doesn’t, mostly because he wants to let the kid think he’s won for a second while he takes the chance to figure out how to proceed. There’s a lot of information to process, and they’ve been going at this for long enough that said cavalry might be arriving soon.

He’s had his fun with the kid, but now it’s time to get a bit serious.

“Getting better.”

The kid whips around, surprised as ever as he watches Dante start to move and extricate himself from the statue.

“I would even go as far as to say that I underestimated your abilities.” Dante grunts as he’s freed and falls to the ground. He’s sure he makes for quite a sight, standing there with Rebellion poking out of him.

“You aren’t human, are you?”

What gave that away? Dante almost says. Instead, he takes a moment to carefully pull Rebellion out of his chest. He supposes he could just say no and leave it at that, but… well, he might not be able to tell the kid the entire truth (if it is the truth), but he can at least point out what’s a lot harder to argue. “We’re the same, you and I,” he explains, almost wincing as Rebellion finally comes out. His organs do not appreciate any of this right now. Luckily, they’ll be fine in a few minutes.

The kid doesn’t look convinced, but that’s okay. He’s not expecting him to buy into it right away. Dante gestures at the fallen guards. There’s a lot going on here, and he wonders if the kid is aware of what his Order is up to. “And them.”

He looks over, and is visibly shocked at what he finds. Demonic heads lie where human heads should be, each of them revealing a small piece of the puzzle, one that the kid now knows exists. As he stares, Dante takes the chance to leap up back to the ceiling.

“Though I suspect you carry something different from the others,” he hints. Leave a breadcrumb trail for the kid to follow, and perhaps he’ll piece together things on his own. If he is who he thinks he is, then he needs to learn what he’s got inside of him.

“What are you talking about?” the kid demands, angrily stepping towards him.

“You will come to learn the meaning soon enough.” He’s being a cryptic asshole, he knows, but this is something the kid needs to learn on his own. He wouldn’t believe him if he told him. “But business beckons.” He’s fucked around for long enough. Ducking out of view, he waits to hear what the kid will say, if anything.

He’s not disappointed.

“Hey!” There’s that protest, followed by a blast from his gun. Oh, the kid certainly has guts, and he’s massively entertaining.

Not content to leave things at that, Dante peers back down. “Adios, kid.” He waves a little before darting back out, this time for good.

Chapter Text

III.

Okay so yes, business beckons and all, but Dante needs a goddamn moment.

He hurries across the rooftops, going and going until he finds a secluded spot well out of sight, some ways outside of the city proper. He needs to sit for a second, but not because he’s tired.

Everything is catching up to him, everything he’s held back since he first saw that kid on the street. He stumbles back against a wall, laying Rebellion down as he slides to the ground. It was easy enough to make note of all the little things he noticed about the kid, all the details big and small that point to what seems glaringly obvious. But now that he has a moment alone, it’s hitting him.

That kid is probably the only family he has in the world. And he’s the last thing that remains of Vergil. Not just a bunch of memories and a sword and Dante’s torn glove from that awful day, but something more tangible and real.

He lets out a shuddering breath, leaning his head in his hands.

There’s a part of him that still doubts. All he has is circumstantial evidence, after all. He has no real proof. There could be other explanations for this. His father had been here in the past. It’s possible he got a little frisky with a human and unknowingly spawned another family line here. The kid could be a very distant family member. Or he could just be another product of the Order. He did his homework. He knows what these idiots are up to.

…or maybe he’s just afraid of accepting the truth, because it seems too good to be true. Dante’s not used to gaining things. He just loses. Especially family, he’s had nothing but loss in that department. Why would that change now?

Hope’s a dangerous thing sometimes. It’s growing in his chest and it gnaws at him. He shoves it back down and gets to his feet. He has work to do. He has a cult to stop and two family swords to find. Granted, Trish handed one of those over as part of her undercover work, but he still needs to get it back.

But they also have Yamato. God knows what they’ve used that for. Nothing good, he’s sure, and he suspects it’s played a part in their plans and what they’ve managed to accomplish so far. It’s time to put a stop to them and take back his family’s stuff.

He’ll worry about the kid later.

IV.

Dante comes upon the lab where Yamato is supposed to be. He expects to find the sword and probably some crazy scientist studying it.

Instead, he finds a wrecked room, a big hole in the wall, and a very empty container where he’s pretty sure Yamato once was.

The sword is gone. The room is empty. And something lingers in the air that feels familiar and makes his hairs stand on end.

He steps through the room, frowning at the carnage. There was a fight here. A pretty nasty one, judging by the blood splatters… in particular the very large spatter on the far wall, framed by two identical holes. A larger hole is in the middle, presumably what caused all the blood to be there in the first place. Someone got impaled on this wall.

His fingers graze against the spot. Suddenly he’s overwhelmed with a feeling of worry, and something in him tightens. It’s the kid’s. He doesn’t know how he knows that, but he just does. After all, he’d been making his way here, last Dante had seen. It’s very likely he was involved. So, what the hell happened?

He glances back at the hole in the wall. His frown deepens.

On second thought, he better make sure the kid’s okay.

V.

He is, to Dante’s relief.

Strolling up in front of him maybe isn’t the smartest thing, but Dante’s just as gobsmacked by the huge forest stretched in front of them as the kid is. “What the hell is this?”

He hears the kid draw his gun. Looks like he’s still in fighting shape. Good.

“Must be the effect of the gate,” he adds, not concerned by the gun pointed at his back. It’s another little hint for the kid, to make him see that he’s not responsible for this.

“Sorry kid,” he says, turning towards him. “This is gonna have to wait.” And once again, for the drama of it all, he falls backwards straight into the forest. He sees the kid lean over the side of the cliff, gun still pointed at him. He half expects him to shoot, but he doesn’t. Something holds him back.

Progress, hopefully. If the kid’s not so sure he’s the bad guy, then he’s starting to figure it out.

Another breadcrumb for the trail. Now he has to get back to work, namely finding Yamato and stopping these cultists.

Chapter Text

VI.

Leave it to Trish to find the sword.

She hasn’t made herself known to him yet, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t helping. A lot of their early intel came from her undercover work. She’s the one who first learned about what the Order were doing and that they had a powerful Devil Arm that helped them harness the demons’ power. Given the presence of the Angelo knights, they both suspected what that Arm was. Dante confirmed it later, when he first snuck into the city.

Trish has been leaving him little notes around the island, in places she knows he’d eventually come across. He’s surprised to find one in the headquarters, where there are so many of the Order around, but Trish is bold if nothing else. It’s taped to the side of a divinity statue, mostly out of view and secluded enough not to draw immediate notice if you’re not looking for it. He plucks it off and unfolds it.

‘Yamato’s been restored. Sounds like the kid has it.’

Dante crumbles the note in his hand. He should have figured. The kid had been there. He just hadn’t thought the kid would take a broken sword. Because it had been broken, according to the records he’d stumbled upon, but somehow it’s fixed and now he’s running around with it. All this time wasted looking for it, when all he needed to do was confront the kid.

He sighs. “Why can’t anything be simple?” he grouses as he turns and heads in the kid’s direction.

VII.

There’s a room the kid will have to go through in order to get further into Headquarters. Dante parks himself in that room. He leans against a pillar and waits. And waits.

He hates waiting. It leaves him too much time to think. And right now he really doesn’t want to be thinking. Try as he might to focus on other matters, things keep circling back to that kid. With him comes so many emotions and doubts, uncertainty and hope. They’re hard to grapple with, and Dante almost wishes he hadn’t met him. Things have been complicated ever since he found that kid. The kid that might be, probably is, his nephew.

He hears footsteps, and Dante glances over. The kid comes all but stomping into the room, barely restrained anger showing in his expression. It dissipates for a second when he sees Dante straightening up.

“What took you so long?”

“You…” The kid balls his fists. “What are you doing here?” Yup, he sure is pissed about something. Enough that he decides he’s not having this. “Forget it, I don’t have time for this.” He walks past Dante, giving him a half-assed shove along the way.

That’s a switch, and all the more reason to wonder what’s bothering him. Dante grabs his shoulder. “And neither do I.”

The kid grunts and swings on his heel, a punch thrown at his face. Dante dodges it, and the next one. He’s not going to go as easy on the kid this time. So when the kid throws his devil arm at him, Dante stops it with his hand. It still takes a fair amount of strength to keep it back, though he feels that the kid isn’t putting everything into it just yet.

“So I’ll cut to the chase.” The arm begins to glow, and Dante remembers from last time what that means. But rather than just trying to get out of the way of that power, he simply reverses the momentum. He lets go and just pushes him back the slightest bit. The kid’s so thrown off that he goes crashing into the wall, leaving a nice dent in it.

“I’m here for the sword.” He knows he doesn’t need to elaborate. The kid’s not that dumb.

The dust from the kid’s impact obscures his vision for a moment, but as it begins to clear, he sees the kid step forward, blue demonic energy pouring out from him. His arm glows. “Your point being?” And he can hear that echo in his voice, the same one he has when he’s in his devil form.

There’s a burst of energy from him, and Dante covers his face. When he lowers his arm, he sees the kid standing in front of him, Yamato in hand. Yamato is whole again, and it’s reacting to the kid’s inner demon, letting him draw on its own power and answering to him in a way Dante has only ever seen it do with one other person.

His heart just about stops.

He cannot deny it anymore. His gut feeling becomes certainty. Yamato knows the truth, and it’s laying it bare for Dante to see. This is Vergil’s son. This is his nephew. This is Sparda’s grandson, who’s inherited the same power from him as Dante and Vergil have, even if he doesn’t quite have a good grasp on it yet. But it’s there, it’s real, and he can no longer doubt it.

He’s not alone anymore. And he’s never missed his brother so much as he does in that moment.

It’s a fight to keep his voice level and hide the turmoil in his heart. “It was originally my brother’s…” Your father’s. He draws Rebellion. “Return it to me, and I’ll let you go, kid.”

That sword needs to be in safe hands. He does not know if those hands are the kid’s. He doesn’t even know if the kid is on the Order’s side or not. Hell, he doesn’t even know what the kid intends to do with the sword. It’s not like he knows what it is or what it can really do. He’s a kid swinging around something he has no understanding of. Reasonable worries, he thinks. So why does he feel like what he’s doing is wrong?

“Kid, huh?” Said kid shifts into a fighting stance. “If that’s how you see me, I think you’ll blush a pretty pink when I kick your ass!”

With Yamato, the kid flings a lash of energy at Dante, forcing him to jump out of the way. The blow destroys a column and leaves a gash in the wall behind it. It’s a similar hole to the one Dante saw in the lab. That explains that, at least.

“Ah, helpful hint,” Dante teases as he glances over at the kid. “Take a hint from your elders.”

He tries to make a run for it, but Dante easily jumps down and blocks his path. The kid grits his teeth and, resigned to having to battle, launches himself at Dante.

Whatever has the kid so angry, he’s taking it out on Dante. He feels it in the way the kid lashes out with Yamato. He kind of feels bad, but not enough to hold back. Not that he’s going all out on him, but this is not a test. He very much intends to, as the kid put it, knock him down a couple of notches. If nothing else, maybe it’ll help the kid let out some of that anger.

The kid’s gotten better, and he still puts up more a fight than Dante expected. His emotions are getting the better of him though, and he’d probably be doing an even better job if he weren’t lashing out so much. There’s a lot of yelling and wildly swinging Yamato when he should be focusing and timing his strikes.

He lets loose a barrage of swings on Dante, enough to knock Rebellion out of his hand. Then he lunges for him. Which might work on a less seasoned opponent, but not on him. Dante leans back and pushes on the kid’s back, toppling him to the ground in a rather ungraceful fall. Before the kid can get up and try to decapitate him or something, Dante’s got his foot on his arm and Rebellion at his neck.

Nice try. Points for effort all that. Still, even Dante’s panting a bit as he meets Nero’s glare. “You cooled off yet, kid?” The glare deepens, and the kid looks at Yamato in his hand. “What’s the matter? Why the glare?”

“You look as if you’ve just been playing me from the beginning.”

The kid’s more perceptive than he realized. And he seems to have calmed down a bit, even if he’s still mad. Dante steps back to let him stand up. The kid might not know what Yamato can do, but that’s not his fault. “That sword was used to separate our world from the demons.” He hears the kid grunting and struggling to his feet. Despite a beating, he’s still going. As the kid straightens up, Dante turns back towards him. “I can’t have something with that kind of power floating around, now can I?” He wants him to understand what he has in his hand. He wants him to understand that he’s not fucking around with him or just being an ass, that he’s trying to get that sword back with good reason. “It’s got to stay in the family.”

The kid looks down at that sword, quiet and pensive, struggling with what to say. It seems he at least understands where Dante is coming from, given the lack of arguing. “I need this…” It’s a plea. Not a demand, not a cocky retort, not anything that Dante’s seen from him so far. Just an earnest plea for his own understanding in return.

It takes the wind out of Dante’s sails. It’s like looking at a kicked puppy. The kid’s using the sword because it’s giving him needed power. He’s not playing with it, and from what Dante just saw in their fight, he knows how to use it, even if not fully. And if he needs it, that means he’s got a fight ahead of him. Which likely means he’s going up against the Order. They did something to anger him. Maybe he knows the truth, or maybe it’s something else. Betrayal. Lies. Unpaid overtime. Whatever the reason, the kid’s on his side of things.

He sighs a bit before he relents. “Then keep it.”

The kid looks up, surprised and wide-eyed. He can practically hear the question he hasn’t spoken, but Dante’s not about to get drawn into explaining why he’s changed his mind.

“Now that you’re calm and cool,” He jabs his thumb at the door. “get going.” And he looks away, refusing to meet his stare. He’s afraid to, honestly. Afraid of what’ll come out if he does. Afraid that he’ll say the things he wants to say but can’t. Hopefully he just looks like he’s being distant and cool, rather than the emotional mess he is on the inside.

The kid gets the message and begins to walk away, passing by Dante as he does.

“Hey!” There’s one thing he needs to know before he goes. It’s gone unasked long enough. “What’s your name?”

“Nero. You’re Dante, right?” Nero keeps walking, heading out of the room. But not before he adds, “Not a bad name…”

It’s only then, when he’s certain Nero isn’t looking at him anymore, does he turn back around. A little smile forms, despite himself. “Neither is yours.” He’s not sure if Vergil would have liked it, but he does, at least.

He takes a deep breath, wondering if he should take a moment to catch a breather and try to really grapple with what just happened.

Trish has other plans.

He watches her walk in front of him, both of them waiting until Nero leaves the room. After a moment of staring, Dante bursts out laughing. “That regal look suits you!”

“I dress to impress.” And with a flourish of her arm, Trish ditches her disguise. “Are you sure you want to let him go?” she asks as she walks towards him.

He wonders how much of that she saw. And he wonders if she isn’t coming to the same conclusion that he made. Surely she sees the similarities. “Yeah, I figure he can bear the burden.” If the kid wants in on this fight, he’ll let him have it. He’s tough, and he’s proven himself a capable fighter. Let him have it out with the Order. He’s got more at stake, anyway.

“I know it’s not my business, but this could get ugly.”

It almost definitely was going to get ugly. These things usually did. “Well, if the kid screws up, I’ll just have to kick his ass.”

Because that’s how they roll in this family.

Chapter Text

VIII.

In hindsight, maybe sending the eighteen year old kid at the resurrected, power hungry wanna-be Pope and his God construct wasn’t the best idea Dante’s ever had.

Especially since he realizes, a little too late, just why they wanted someone with Sparda’s blood.

He barely gets there in time to catch Credo, who had attempted to help Nero escape the Savior’s clutches. A valiant effort, but one that only got him stabbed with Yamato and sent plummeting to his death. He’ll die from the wound regardless, but at least Dante can ensure he’s not going to die as a bloody splat on the ground.

Which is the best he can do in the current situation, which is not great.

Sanctus, high on his power trip, mocks them from his spot atop the Savior’s head. “Unfortunately, you did not anticipate a descendant of Sparda’s blood…”

Trish shoots Dante a look. He meets it. They’ve been friends for long enough that words aren’t needed. She knows, and she now knows that he knows, too.

“…and because of this boy, you have been outwitted. And the Savior will be completed!”

Dante almost argues that he wasn’t outwitted, just… more like he didn’t entirely think things through. This Savior proved to be a lot stronger than any of them realized. If he had known, he wouldn’t have sent Nero at him.

So far, he’s not doing too great at this whole being an uncle thing.

Time for Plan B: pep talk time. “I don’t know, I’d wager this kid’s still got some life in him.” Or so he really hopes.

Nero takes the hint and utilizes his devil arm, summoning its corporeal form and grabbing Sanctus with it. So far so good, and Dante grins.

…until Nero makes the mistake of slamming Sanctus into the Savior instead of, well, pretty much anywhere else. Sanctus vanishes and reappears next to Nero, stabbing Yamato into his arm. “You fool! Escape is now impossible! The creation cannot be stopped!”

There goes Plan B.

“Hey, kid! You giving up so soon?” Plan C: rag on him.

“My options… are limited.” His arm loses its glow, and Nero visibly weakens. Neither are good signs.

“So melodramatic. Besides, if you die without giving my sword back, I’m gonna be pissed!” It’s easier to tease the kid and try and verbally kick his ass into fighting back, than face the fact that Sanctus has effectively trampled all over him, his family and their stuff. The absolute bastard.

Nero begins to sink into the Savior, his struggle at an end. But not before he flips off Dante and taunts, “Then come and get it!”

Dante scoffs, swallowing back his worry. “What a punk.”

He watches as the Savior, now powered by Nero and that girl, rises from its containment and into the air. This is a whole lot of not good. Sanctus has the Sparda. He now also has the Yamato. Worst of all, he’s now effectively taken his nephew hostage and is using him as a one-quarter demon, three-quarter human battery for his world domination tool.

That’s not gonna fly with him, oh no. Dante fucked this up, he’ll admit it (if only to himself), but that doesn’t mean it’s beyond fixing. It just means he’s onto Plan D. D for Dante has to do everything around here.

He turns to Credo, who’s still clinging to life, though not for long. He’ll start with him and go from there.

IX.

Sure, he says he’s saving Nero and Kyrie to honor Credo’s dying request but quite frankly, he was already going to do that. Not that Credo knew that. Whatever eases the dying guy’s passing, though.

It’s a request that’s going to be a pain in the ass to fulfill, however. He can’t just go charging straight at the Savior like he wants. There are four Hell Gates to consider. Three are fake and can probably be destroyed with regular Devil Arms. The fourth – the real one – was going to take a bit more oomph. Mainly, the sort of oomph afforded by Yamato’s absurdly sharp blade. But that’s all the way in the city, and if he come back the way he came, he might as well take out the fake gates first along the way.

There’s also the issue of evacuating the city for the shitstorm that’s about to come, but that’s for Trish to handle.

Dante’s calm on the outside as he makes his way through the demonic jungle, but on the inside, he’s seething. People putting their paws all over his family’s stuff is starting to get real old. It’s weird enough these people worship his dad, but they’re taking things to an entirely different level. Using his father’s sword and his brother’s sword to raise a demonic army to accompany a five thousand foot statue that can fly, all to take over the world hidden behind a guise of saving humanity from demons and itself or some bullshit… It makes him wish he’d decapitated the bastard instead of just shooting him.

On top of all of that, they dragged his brother’s kid into this, too. And his girlfriend. That kid is his only family left in the world. He’s just found him and now the kid’s already in danger. Worse yet, Dante’s partially to blame for it. All of this is really sticking in his craw. Anger is nothing new, but it’s taking everything Dante has not to destroy his surroundings in a fit of rage.

He suddenly flashes back to Mallet Island, to seeing his brother in that armor. Sanctus isn’t on Mundus’s level, but he feels as justified as Mundus in using one of Dante’s family members to further his own ends. Sanctus would condemn Nero to a fate worse than death, just like Mundus had done to Vergil.

Fuck, no wonder he’s so enraged. This is Mallet Island all over again. The details are different, but the principle is the same. And he is getting really sick of people messing with his family.

He couldn’t save Vergil in the end. He could only give him death as a release. But he sure as hell is not going to fail Vergil’s son. This time, he’s going to do it right. This time is going to be different. He will not be too late. This will have a different ending than Mallet Island. He owes it to himself, to Vergil, and to Nero.

“Gonna make this right somehow,” he murmurs as he heads towards the forest Hell Gate. “I’m getting that kid out of there alive, even if I have to dive in there myself.”

Chapter Text

X.

Three fake Hell Gates, a lot of fighting, some dumb antics and a Shakespearean moment later, Dante finally has Yamato in hand. A part of him wonders what Vergil would think, seeing all of this. He probably wouldn’t be happy that Dante’s hauling Yamato around like he is, and he’d probably ridicule him for the way he slices apart the Hell Gate. He can practically hear Vergil’s nasally voice scolding him for his stance being too wide or for drawing Yamato too slowly.

And he might also be pretty pissed Dante let his son get sucked into the Savior. Which, you know, Dante is about to go undo. Because he’s a good uncle like that. Or, trying to be anyway. Honestly, this gig is a lot harder than he thought it would be.

He hops back up onto the cathedral, making his way up to the very top of its spire. Time to confront Senior Douchenozzle and perform a rescue.

“You destroyed the Hell Gates!” Sanctus doesn’t sound happy which in turn just makes Dante happy.

“Yeah. They sort of tainted the view.” Dante gestures at him with Yamato, silently rubbing it in his face that he got the sword back. “Soooo… you ready to fight now or what?” A fight in which he very much hopes he gets to smash Sanctus’s face in several times.

“You traveled this far to fight me? You could never touch the power of the Savior!”

“Sounds like you’re overcompensating…” Because it’s not a day ending in y if Dante doesn’t make the most immature joke possible. “Besides, I didn’t want you to get a creak in your neck from lookin’ down at me.” You arrogant prick.

“Silence!”

Yeah, okay. That’ll shut him up for sure.

But surprisingly, Sanctus switches from indignant and confident to much less so as he adds, “What would it take for you to alter your position?”

Dante’s lips twitch. Oh, this is rich. Now he wants to bargain? That’ll be a big fat no. “How about death?”

Sanctus sends his Angelo knights at him in response. Well, can’t say he didn’t try the diplomatic route, laughable as it was. Time for the tried and true method of violence.

It’s a conga line of Angelo knights that go after him. When they fail to stop him, the Savior itself tries to take him on. There’s a lot of shooting and slashing and nearly being squished like a bug by the Savior’s ridiculous-sized hands. Luckily, Ugly the God Statue has very obvious weak spots that Dante shatters easily.

He saves the one on his chest for last and as the Savior stumbles, Dante seizes the opportunity to jab Yamato straight into it.

Sanctus’s voice booms from above, “Even Yamato is powerless in opposition to the Savior!”

Dante leaps away before one of those hands can flatten him. Well, it’s a good thing he wasn’t trying to murder the statue with Yamato, then. He has another objective in mind.

“If the exterior is solid,” He pulls out his guns, aiming the nozzles straight at the flat end of Yamato’s hilt. He fires several shots, each one pummeling the sword until it tears into the Savior’s core (he wishes he could see what Vergil’s expression would be at seeing him shoot his sword like that). Dante lands back on the spire, holstering his guns. “…then you gotta take it out from the inside.”

“No!!” Sanctus sounds even less happy than before. Dante’s all but grinning at this point. “What have you done?”

He’s weakened the Savior as much as he’s able. Now, it’s the kid’s turn. “Wake up, kid!” he shouts. “You’re missing out on all the fun!”

He waits. Nothing. He can’t feel any change at all. Come on. Come on. Get out. Get up. Please. “Nero!”

There’s movement. The Savior bucks, and he can sense Yamato’s energy reacting to Nero’s presence. He peers at the small hole in the Savior’s chest, and he can just make out Nero on the ground, clutching Yamato. There. He’s okay.

“It’s up to you from here, kid!” He’s done what he can for him. Nero’s free, and he’s armed again. The rest is on him. Dante’ll hold off Big Ugly until Nero can finish off Old Ugly somewhere inside the statue. “An opportunity to save the world doesn’t happen every day you know! Savor it.”

They’re gonna do this together, uncle and nephew. For the first time in eighteen years, he’s fighting alongside family again. He’ll be savoring this, too.

XI.

The statue stops mid-punch. When it shows no signs of moving further, Dante shoves it off of him. “It’s over.”

It leans a little to the side, motionless, its fist propped up against the ground. It seems safe to say that the Savior is finished. He stands back and watches the statue, waiting. And hoping.

The topmost crystal shatters, and out springs Nero with Kyrie in his arms. From a distance, Dante can see Sparda on his back. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Both kids are safe, and so are both swords. He might have fucked up, but he made it right in the end.

“Took your time,” he says after he huffs out a laugh, watching Nero walk over and put Kyrie on her feet.

“What, you’re looking for an apology?”

“Well, how long am I gonna have to wait for it?”

Before Nero can fire back a retort, there’s a rumble, and suddenly the Savior rises back up. Its face has changed, reflecting Sanctus’ now direct control over it. Apparently, the old fart has one last trick up his sleeve.

Well that’s just fantastic.

“This guy just doesn’t let it go!” Dante draws out his guns, readying himself for yet another round with His Ugliness.

…at least until Nero swings out Sparda and holds it in front of Dante, indicating for him to hang back. “This is where it started, and this is where it’ll end… by my hand.”

So, the kid wants to finish things. Fair enough. This has been his fight more than Dante’s anyway. “All right then,” Dante acquiesces as he takes the sword. “Go finish it, kid.”

Nero looks over his shoulder, glancing back at Kyrie. “Wait for me.”

They exchange smiles. It’s a sweet little moment that Dante almost teases them about, but he actually refrains for once. No need to ruin the mood. Instead, he crosses his arms and watches Nero confidently stride towards the Savior, preparing to deliver the final blow.

The kid doesn’t disappoint. It’s just as loud, dramatic, and destructive as Dante would have done it. He can’t help but smile as Nero crushes the Savior’s head like an egg, sending it toppling to the ground. The citizens are going to have a hell of a time cleaning that up, but hey, it’s pretty damn cool in the moment!

He waits for Nero by the entrance to the cathedral, where they had met not even a day ago. He eventually hears him approach.

“I guess I should thank you,” Nero says.

Dante finally looks over at him and sees that Nero’s carrying Yamato. Hm. “But that’d be out of character,” he quips back. “Maybe you should throw an insult my way instead.”

There’s a moment where he looks almost guilty, but Nero quickly puts back on his little smile. “Yeah, that sounds better.” He pauses, and then adds, more seriously, “Still, I owe you.”

Oh no, they’re getting all serious and touching. It makes Dante want to squirm. “Don’t sweat it. I had my reasons for helping…” Reasons which he can’t and won’t go into, even though he kind of wishes he could. He smiles and pats Nero on the shoulder. It’s the closest to affection he can really show him. “Take care of yourself.”

He begins to walk away. It seems so… wrong to leave things just at that. But what else can he say? They’re just supposed to be two fighters who crossed paths, helping each other out to save the day. That’s all it can be. To say anything more would be to make more of this than he wants Nero to think.

“Wait…”

Crap.

“You forgot this.”

Dante stops. He didn’t forget. He honestly just… well, he wanted to avoid saying the words. He kind of hoped Nero would just not say anything and be glad he was “forgetting” about the sword. Seems like the kid’s too honest for that. Which, hey, it’s a good trait, but right now it’s just a hair inconvenient.

He sighs quietly. This is hard. That sword is his brother’s. It’s one of the few things left of Vergil. He really thought he’d be walking out of here with it, having reclaimed something of his brother. Instead, he’s going to leave it behind… because Nero should have it. Deep down, he knows it really belongs to Nero now. If Vergil knew Nero like Dante does, he thinks he’d want Nero to have it, too. Besides, Nero is never going to get to know his father. Dante at least has his memories. Nero doesn’t even have those. The sword is the least he can give him.

Finally he works up the nerve to turn around. He wants to smile and pass it all off like it’s nothing, but he can’t even muster that. His expression is serious as he says, “Keep it.”

“What?” Nero looks down at Yamato. “I thought this meant a lot to you?”

It does. “That’s the only kind of gift worth giving.” Maybe not the best lie he’s come up with, but here’s to hoping the kid buys it. “I want to entrust it to you, and so I am.” Because as hard as it is to leave it behind, he knows it’s worth it. He came here trying to reclaim a scrap of his brother’s memory. Instead, he found something even better.

Before his emotions bubble over, he quickly turns and walks away again. “What you do from here is your call.” Make it good, kid.

“Hey, Dante. Will we meet again?”

He keeps walking, only giving Nero a vague little wave. It’s not a real answer, but Nero will find out in time. Dante absolutely plans on seeing him again. He’s not about to let this last piece of his family slip through his fingers again. Never again.

Chapter Text

XII.

Dante and Lady have been friends for going on twenty years. They’re the closest thing to a best friend either of them have. Sure, Trish is Dante’s partner, but they don’t have quite as much history and shared experiences that he and Lady have.

Over the course of their friendship, there have been a few instances – three exactly – where Dante direly needed her support. Not with fighting demons. Well, not physical demons, at any rate. One might say that she’s helped him fight some of his inner demons.

She’s come to learn when these moments are happening. Dante will grab as many bottles of alcohol he can carry and hole himself up in the basement. Morrison – and in later years Trish – eventually notice that he’s secluded himself down there and eventually call Lady. She comes over, and a brutally honest and vulnerable conversation ensues. They don’t talk about them again afterwards. Just in those moments, their guards drop and everything comes out. It’s the closest thing to a healthy coping mechanism Dante has.

The first instance occurred on his twentieth birthday, which was the first one he celebrated after losing Vergil. It was the first time Lady really realized just how much Vergil’s loss hurt him. She’d gotten drunk with him, “celebrating” his birthday as best she could with him. Somehow she managed to make her way to a store and buy him a cake. He hadn’t wanted to celebrate in any way at first, but she insisted he try. The meaning of the day hadn’t stopped just because he’d lost his brother. They both woke up hungover and tired, but she’d made that night a lot easier than it would have been had he been alone.

The second one… was a doozy. That occurred right after he returned from Mallet Island. The high from defeating Mundus wore off, and Dante had been left with the reality that he had killed his brother. His brother, who had been suffering for almost a decade, and all he had been able to do was give him death. He damn near broke that night, and it had taken Lady everything she had to keep him together. She’d been a near constant presence at Devil May Cry for months afterwards, until she finally determined that Dante would be okay on his own.

The next occurrence had been after he’d gotten back from the underworld, post-Dumary Island. He’d mostly just felt off-kilter from being stuck down there for so long. In a sense, he had forgotten how to be a person. Lady had sat with him for a few hours, talking with him and just helping him feel more normal again.

Tonight marks the fourth instance.

By this point, Trish knows the signs. In fact, he’s half-certain she predicted this ahead of time. He hasn’t been down in the basement for long before he hears Lady walking down the stairs. From his spot splayed out on the floor, he looks over at her.

Not since the first time they’d done this has he seen her look so confused. “So…” She steps off the stairs, watching him with her arms crossed. “What’s brought this on?”

“You’re not gonna believe this."

Brow cocked, she walks over to him and takes a seat on the ground. “Try me.”

Dante gestures with a bottle of Jack Daniels in hand. He’s not even halfway through it yet. “You’re really not.”

Lady picks up a half-finished bottle of tequila and takes a sip. “I think I’ve been through enough crazy stuff that nothing really surprises-”

“I’m an uncle.”

And that sip is immediately spit out. “What?”

“Told ya.”

She gawks at him, whipping off her sunglasses to get a good look at him. He’s fairly certain she’s trying to see if he’s joking. He just keeps staring back at her. Eventually she shakes her head before taking a longer drink from the bottle. “I can’t – are you sure?”

Dante gives her a brief rundown of what happened in Fortuna; better to do it now while he’s still sober enough to manage it. “He’s got a lot of Vergil in him,” he finishes before taking a swig from his own bottle. “Just less of a douchebag. But he’s definitely… family.” There’s a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe I have family again.”

“I can’t believe someone willingly slept with Vergil."

And what else can Dante do but practically bust a gut laughing at that? He laughs so hard his head, back and shoulders dig into the floor, which is sure to make him sore. But he needs that laughter so badly. He didn’t realize how much emotion he’s kept pent up until it all comes pouring out in loud, raucous barks of laughter that brings tears to his eyes.

Lady’s laughing with him, though not quite as hard. On some level she probably recognizes that he needs this. It’s what she’s good at doing. At least he’s laughing this time. This is one of their better basement sessions to date.

“Oh Christ,” Dante manages at last, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“She must have had some serious talent to get him to lower his guard like that.”

“You’re telling me. Too bad I have no idea who she is.”

Lady cocks a brow at him. “Ask Nero then.”

She gets a doubly incredulous look in return. “How the hell do I spin that? ‘Hey kid, who’s your mom? Why do I ask? Oh, no reason. Just super curious. I have no ulterior motive for asking.’”

“It’s called getting to know each other, dumbass.” She nudges him. “You talk to him about his life growing up. It’s something people discuss all the time.”

“I don’t know. He probably doesn’t want-”

Lady nudges him again, this much with a lot more force. “Stop being a baby. Give it a week or two and then call.”

“Don’t have his number.”

“Then go visit. Say you’re checking up on things since I’m sure you made a mess.”

“First of all, we both did. And secondly, I-“

“I’ll go with you. I wanna meet him anyway.”

“You can’t just-”

She levels a stare that brokers no argument. Dante sighs.

“Fine…”

XIII.

The kid’s surprised to see him when Dante rolls into town six weeks later. Not that he’s surprised that he’s surprised. He didn’t exactly call ahead or anything.

“What, change your mind?” Nero asks, mostly jokingly. But there’s a slight edge to his voice that makes Dante realize that a part of him is legitimately wondering if he did actually come back for Yamato.

Dante waves it off. “Nah.” He gestures to the city, which is still half in ruins. “Wanted to check in and see how everything’s coming along. I sort of did help trash the place.”

“So, guilt then.”

“…nice to see you, too, Nero,” he says dryly.

Nero starts opening his mouth to likely fire back a smart-ass remark, but he closes it and frowns instead. Looking past Dante’s shoulder, he asks, “Who’s that?”

Lady has been hanging back the entire time, letting Dante greet Nero before making herself known. She smiles and waves a little as she strolls up to the pair.

“Right. Nero, this is Lady, an associate of mine.” Which is a mild way of saying ‘She’s my best friend and a good part of the reason why I anything left of my sanity’. Dante gestures to the kid. “Lady, this is Nero. He’s the one I told you about.”

Nero nods to her, which is about as polite of a greeting as anyone seems to get from him. “So, you were talking about me?”

“Dante gave me the rundown about what happened here,” Lady cuts in. “I’m the one who sent him here. The Order was rounding up demons and elbowing in on my jobs, so I asked Dante to investigate. Looks like we stumbled onto something a lot bigger than anyone was expecting.”

“You missed out on all the fun,” Dante weakly jokes. It’s a little hard to be completely lackadaisical about it when he’s staring down all the ruin it left behind. Most of his jobs take place far away from civilization, so he usually doesn’t have to worry about collateral damage. Dumary Island had gotten ugly, but he got stuck in the Underworld for a while after that, so he never saw the immediate aftermath. Here, though, he does and it’s much harder to ignore.

Lady waves him off. “Not all of us enjoy wreaking havoc wherever we go. Anyway,” she further interjects before Dante can argue, “nice to meet you, Nero. I hope Dante didn’t give you too much grief. He doesn’t always play well with others.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

Lady groans. “Oh God, don’t even start with-”

So of course he’s going to start with, “This is coming from the woman who shot me in the head, twice, for catching her while she was falling off the side of a tower-”

“I had no idea why you were helping me or what you were going to-”

“And this was after you fired the Kalina Ann at me when we first met-”

“It was nearly twenty years ago!” She punches him in the arm. “I’ve grown up, and so have you. …okay, I’ve grown up at least.”

Nero, having had enough of this, turns on his heel. “I’ll leave you two to your old people bickering. I’ve got stuff I need to-”

Dante nearly panics, not wanting to leave already. He did come here to talk to Nero and get to know him better, after all. But before he can even try to protest, the door to the house suddenly swings open. Out pops Kyrie’s head. Her eyes widen briefly in surprise before a warm smile blooms. “Dante? I didn’t know you were coming.” She glances expectantly at Nero.

He lifts his hands. “I didn’t either.”

“Surprise visit. Thought I’d check up on everything and see how you kids were making out.” There’s a pause, and then he smirks. He’s going to get punched for this, but by God it’ll be worth it. “In the getting by sense, not the other way.” He sees Nero freeze before swerving on him. Despite what he knows is coming, Dante can’t help but grin. “I’m sure you two are doing plenty of that and I don’t think-”

And there’s the Devil Arm to the face, sending Dante bouncing across the pavement like a red leather bouncy ball, laughing all the way until he collides with some rubble.

“If you came here just to give me shit, you can leave,” Nero spats. Dante can’t see him at the moment but he can picture how much he must be bristling. Ahhh, the kid is so easy to rile up.

“We came to check up on you, really,” Lady interjects, doing damage control. “Dante’s just incapable of acting like an adult for more than five minutes at a time.”

“I heard that!” Dante calls out as he untangles himself from the small pile of wreckage he’d created.

“Didn’t think you wouldn’t!”

Then Kyrie, bless her sweet heart, cuts in before another stupid argument brews. “Since you came all this way, why not stay for dinner? It’d be nice to have company over. Beef barbeque with some homemade coleslaw, if you’re interested.”

“We’d love to,” Lady answers with a smile. “We don’t get home cooked meals very often in our line of work.” She looks back at Dante, who’s finally upright and dusting himself off. “Some of us less than others.”

“I resemble that remark,” he mutters.

XIV

It’s been damn near three decades since Dante has had a sit-down dinner at someone’s house, eating a home cooked meal. With family, no less. It feels a little bit weird. There are place mats. And napkins. Kyrie even has a pitcher of lemonade on the table. Dante wonders if he didn’t somehow stumble into the middle of a family sitcom.

So yes, it’s strange and kind of alien, but it’s… nice. Cozy. Normal. Not that normalcy and Dante were ever good friends, but every now and again he doesn’t mind brushing up against it. Especially if it means spending time with family like this.

As he inhales his third barbeque sandwich, he smiles a little. Normalcy. He might not be familiar with it, but Nero seems to be. At least, more than Dante is. And that’s good. He’s glad for it. He’s glad his nephew has more of a normal life than his uncle and father got. Maybe Nero can get it right where they couldn’t and have a real, normal life. Maybe even have a family. They were all things that were now beyond Vergil’s reach, and likely beyond Dante’s as well.

“You’re a great cook, Kyrie,” Lady commented, drawing Dante from his thoughts.

“Yup,” he chimes in, swallowing the last of his sandwich. He considers having another heaping of coleslaw. It’s damn good food, better than anything he has access to. And it’s different from pizza, if nothing else. His poor digestive tract probably doesn’t know what to make of this weird substance.

Kyrie’s pleased as can be, beaming in pride. “Thank you! I’m sorry it’s not much, but-”

“Hey.” Nero shot her a stern look. “It’s more than enough. You did great.”

Well aren’t they just cute? Dante thinks as Kyrie smiles and nods to Nero. Kid’s doing better at relationships than Vergil and I combined. Speaking of… He still hasn’t brought up the topic of conversation he came here to have. And Lady seems aware of it, too, judging by the way she’s knowingly looking at Dante and then subtly jerking her head towards Nero.

Dante fiddles with his fork, trying to think of a decent way to bring it up without making it sound forced. He stares down at his now empty plate, a bit lost. Maybe he’ll have more and just delay this a bit longer until he can figure out something. Her cooking really is good. And she’s pretty young to be such a good cook. Where did she-

Ah ha. “You really did do great.” He flashes her a winning smile. “Where’d you learn to cook that good? Most kids barely know how to microwave a burrito.”

“Including you,” Lady mutters.

Dante pointedly ignores her. He’s trying to do the thing she kept nagging him about! “Your ma?”

Kyrie nods. “I used to help her out a lot in the kitchen. Between my dad, Credo and Nero, we had a lot of food to make. I didn’t mind, though. I like cooking, and she taught me how to make a lot of food from very little.”

His heart sinks. But he fights to keep on a smile as he glances at Nero. “You ate them out of their own house?” he jokes.

Nero lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “I told them they didn’t have to feed me. But they always insisted.”

“We liked having you over,” Kyrie protests. “Mom and Dad wanted you to feel like this was your home, too. Besides… Mom was always a little worried you weren’t getting enough to eat at the orphanage. You were always so skinny.”

Shit. And his heart plummets down to his stomach. His nephew grew up in an orphanage. No family, no real home, nothing. So much for all the normalcy he thought he had. Shit, even Dante and Vergil had their parents and a home for the first eight years. Nero didn’t even have that. As irrational as it is, guilt coils like a hot spring inside of him. If only he had known… “Ah. Orphanage, huh? Tough break.”

“Certainly not for my parents.” Nero tries to sound joking about it, but the bitterness bleeds through. It only makes Dante feel worse… and more confused. He stands up, gathering up everyone’s empty plates. “I gotta head down to Mrs. Laurey’s. Told her I’d help with hauling some debris. I need to get there before it gets dark.” As he passes by Kyrie on his way to the sink, he swoops down and presses a kiss to the side of her head. “I’ll be back later.”

They watch him dump the plates and head out the door, yanking his coat off the worn coat rack on his way out. Dante rubs the back of his head as the door slams shut behind Nero. “Guess I hit a sore spot.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know,” Kyrie said.

Lady shares a knowing look with Dante before asking Kyrie, “So, does he not know who they are? Or…?”

Kyrie shakes her head. “No. He was left there as a newborn, wrapped up in a black blanket. That’s how he got his name.” There’s a pause, and her eyes grow a little sadder. “It was hard for him. He got teased a lot.”

“For what?”

“Not knowing who his parents are.”

“A building full of orphans teased him for not knowing who his parents were?” Lady shakes her head in disbelief. “You can’t mean to tell me he was the only one who didn’t know his parents.”

“A big part of it was… well, Fortuna keeps pretty good records. Particularly medical ones. The doctors and midwives here take meticulous notes and save everything. The Order is – was pretty strict about record maintenance. But around the time Nero was born, there are no records of any births.” Kyrie’s voice lowers. “So, a lot of people think his mother was a… prostitute. I’m sure you can imagine the kinds of things the kids said. And even the adults.”

Dante damn near bursts out laughing. Vergil, with a prostitute? Look, he doesn’t knock sex workers. They’re still people, and a living is a living. But Vergil would never, ever sleep with one. For one thing, Vergil never really had a lot of money, since he never really kept steady employment. He usually stole it when he really needed it. Occasionally he’d do odd jobs for room and board, but otherwise he was often short on cash. So he wouldn’t waste precious money on buying sex.

Secondly, Vergil was a snobby prick. Dante’s pretty sure Vergil wouldn’t associate with that sort of crowd.

Thirdly… Vergil shied away from interpersonal relationships. Dante might not be the most socially well-adjusted person, but that pales in comparison to how shitty Vergil was at it. He still can’t fathom him sleeping with anyone. Consensual sex demands a high degree of vulnerability and a degree of connection. Vergil didn’t let his guard down for anything. Frankly, Dante never thought Vergil was even interested in sex. Like he and Lady had discussed, whoever Nero’s mother was, she must have been someone special to be able to lower Vergil’s guard. Someone trustworthy, and someone Vergil managed to get to know.

No, he very much doubts the rumors are true.

“That’s horrible,” Lady says. “Even if she is, that doesn’t warrant that kind of teasing.”

“I agree, but Fortuna’s always been pretty… conservative about that sort of thing. I don’t think it helps that Nero never quite fit in, either.”

It makes him more other. Dante knows exactly what it’s like to be young and an outsider. He knows what it’s like to have no one in your corner and to be full of resentment for being different. Nero might have something of a normal life now, but his life didn’t seem terribly different than what Dante and Vergil’s were like in their youth. And that breaks his heart to pieces, because Nero deserves better.

He came here to get answers. Now he only has more questions, ones that are never going to be answered. And now he’s just friggin’ depressed. He sighs.

At least the food was good.

Chapter Text

XV

Dante knew this conversation was going to happen eventually.

Lady crosses her arms, leveling a hard look at him from the other side of his desk. Trish is giving him the same look, except she’s got her hands on his desk, leaning against them. If she’s trying to intimidate him… it’s kinda working, honestly.

But despite Trish’s nerve-racking glare, he’s not backing down from this.

“It’s not open for discussion,” he snaps. “I am not telling him.” They decided to confront him at a not great time. He’s had a headache all day, his bills are overdue again, he’s out of food, and he hasn’t had a job in weeks. Now they’ve gone and done this and he lacks the usual cool composure he tries to maintain.

Basically, this isn’t destined to go well.

“It’s been over a year, Dante,” Lady counters. “He’s got a demonic arm that doesn’t seem to be going away and a power inside of him he barely understands.”

“He has a right to know,” Trish adds.

“To know what?” Yep, he’s not keeping it together today. He’s too damn cranky and tired to care right now. If they want to pick a fight, they’ll get one. “That he’s partially a demon? Yeah, sure, I can tell him. But then he’s gonna wonder why he is. Then I’m gonna have to explain that my brother knocked his mom up about twenty years ago and then fucked off to go raise a demon tower and play at being my father.” He didn’t mean to take it this far, but the words come pouring out and his voice gets more scathing which each breath. “And then I’ll have to tell him what happened to his father. That’ll be fun, right? I’d get to tell him all about how he got his stupid ass stuck in the underworld and then got captured by Mundus. He’ll get to hear how his dad was a mind-controlled pawn of the demon emperor for a decade before I came along and killed him. ‘Yeah, sorry kid, no answers for you, because your dad’s dead. So’s your mom, and your grandparents. But hey, at least you get one shitty uncle!’ Is that what you think he deserves to know?”

The rant stuns both women into silence. He hardly knows if it’s because of what he said or because of how much emotion he’s showing right now. Maybe it’s both.

Lady dares to break the silence first. “Okay, but what if he asks? There are some pretty obvious similarities, Dante. One day he might – probably will – put it together and ask. What then?”

That’s much harder to answer, even though Dante’s wondered the same thing. His shoulders sag in thought. “I don’t know. I’d have to play that one by ear.”

“You’re just going to wing it?” Trish asks incredulously before she rolls her eyes. “Oh wait, I forget who I’m talking to.”

“Look, if he asks and he clearly seems to have an idea of what’s going on, I’ll come clean with what’s pertinent. But I am not dumping the family’s tragedy on him. He doesn’t need to know all that shit. The best thing I can do for him is to keep him separated from it.” He knows they don’t agree, he can see it in their eyes. But he doesn’t really care. This is his family and his concern. He’ll handle it as he sees fit. “And if he does have to find out, it comes from me.” He levels a warning look at them.

“Fine,” they say in unison. The point’s been made clear.

It’s a victory. A little one, but one all the same.

Chapter Text

XVI

Dante’s tickled pink the first time Nero calls him. He’d never say it out loud, but he is.

It’s a short conversation. Nero had just called to ask him a question, but Dante stretches it out a little longer. He mostly gets short answers from Nero, but he’ll take what he can get.

Their ensuing phone conversations aren’t very long, either. Which is fine by Dante, as he’s not a fan of talking a lot on the phone. In person conversations are better, though it’s a tad troublesome when he hardly ever sees Nero. However, beggars can’t be choosers. Every few months they’ll talk, and bit by bit Dante begins to understand Nero’s life and how things are progressing.

A few years after the Savior incident, he gets a call from Nero. But before his nephew even begins talking to him, Dante hears him shout, “Julio, what did Kyrie just say about climbing on the counter?”

…huh. “So… you guys got a cat or something…?”

“Wha – no. Julio’s a kid. He’s eleven, and he – hey, do not make me tell you again! I-” He takes a long, deep breath. “Get down from there now. Please.”

Dante’s brow raises ever higher. The kid’s learning to rein in his temper. “You have a kid?”

“He’s one of the orphans we just took in.”

“And said orphan isn’t in the orphanage because…?”

“There is no orphanage. Not a functioning one. Place got wrecked during the attack. The kids have been getting bounced around the city ever since. They ran out of homes that’ll take them in, so Kyrie and I volunteered. They’ll be staying with us for… awhile.”

That doesn’t surprise him, really. Between Kyrie’s nature and Nero’s history, they’re prime candidates to be taking care of orphans. “Who knew underneath that prickly, scowly exterior was a big softie?”

“Laugh it up, but I wasn’t going to turn my back on them.”

“Hey, I’m not laughing.” Okay maybe a little, but only because it’s kind of cute. “Seriously though, how is the orphanage not rebuilt by now?”

“A lot of stuff isn’t. The Order isn’t what it used to be, so the infrastructure has gone to hell.”

“People could come in and help rebuild if they would hire some help. But that won’t fly, will it?”

“Exactly. We can’t- Dam – dang it, Julio! Off. The. Counter. I catch you doing it one more time and you’re gonna be sent to your room.” A pause, and then an exasperated sigh. “No, of course you won’t be getting any of her cookies either.”

Dante snorts, way too amused listening to their exchange. “Good luck with that one, Pops.”

“They haven’t had a lot of, you know… structure. Sometimes too much discipline, sometimes not enough. Hard to keep anything straight when everything’s changing around you.”

“Yeah, I know.” He knows all too well what that’s like. That was the entirety of his childhood from the age of eight and onwards. He feels for those kids, he really does, and he’s glad they have Nero and Kyrie. A part of him wishes he had people like them to take him in. Maybe he’d be a lot less screwed up. “But hey, they got a roof over their heads, food on the table and people to look out for them. It could be a lot worse.”

“…something you’re familiar with, huh?” He can all but see Nero’s expression right now: brow slightly puckered and eyes squinted: that look Nero gives when he’s trying to figure someone out.

“You can say that.” And this is not a subject Dante wants to delve into. “I take it you didn’t call to have me listen to you trying to rein a kid in?”

“Ah, no. I just wanted to ask about something. You said you knew an info broker, guy who has ears everywhere?”

“Yeah, Morrison.” Dante cocks a brow. “You need him to find you something?”

“Work. I thought maybe he might know someone who’s looking for contract work. If it involves fixing things or killing things, I’m good at both.”

That worries Dante. Nero’s always been a proud, independent kind of guy, and he doesn’t ask for help much. That he’s coming to Dante and flat out asking means he’s in dire need. And now that he’s taken in kids… “I’ll let him know. And hey, if I do get a wave of jobs my way, I can pass one to you.”

Nero’s voice brightens. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

They chat for a minute more before hanging up. As Dante drops the phone into the receiver, he leans forward on his desk, brow furrowed. Worry rarely used to be a part of his life. It came in when Nero did, and it’s left the elder kin of Sparda off-balance. What does he do with this worry? How does he handle it? Should he try and do something for Nero? Or should he butt out? How does he continue this balancing act of playing the mentor while really being an uncle?

He rubs his hands over his face. He needs to do something he doesn’t like to do: think.

XVII

Dante has a plan. No, really! He does, as surprising as it sounds. He very much has one in mind when he drops into Fortuna a short time after his phone conversation with Nero. He might not like to think much, but every once in a while, using that atrophied brain of his leads to something good.

First things first, he needs to find Nero. Which could be very easy or very difficult, depending on where his nephew has gotten to. And today seems like it’s going to be more difficult, as a quick search in town doesn’t yield anything. He finally has to ask Kyrie (who of course ropes him into promising to stay for dinner) before he’s heading in the right direction.

Nero’s out on the outskirts of the forest, taking care of a small group of demons who felt like barging in. Dante hangs back, watching the kid work.

He’s gotten better, he notes as Nero effortlessly maneuvers between two demons coming at him. He pivots on his heel and slams his sword into one demon while using his demonic arm to reach out and grab another, tossing it over his head and sending it into an uncomfortably close encounter with a tree. Just as the two minions are dispatched, a larger one comes charging in from the forest, having stayed out of sight until now. It bellows in rage, swinging at Nero with its large, almost club like arm. Nero ducks and darts around it. With a flash of blue, Yamato is out along with that spectral form. It only takes a couple of well-placed slices before the brute goes down.

Dante claps once the last demon is dead. Nero whips around, Yamato at the ready, until he sees who it is. He rolls his eyes. “Are you incapable of making a phone call? Just to say ‘hey, I’m stopping by, is that all right?’” he gripes as the specter vanishes and Yamato dissipates into his devil arm. “That’s a thing people do, you know, instead of just dropping in.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Dante laughs. “Besides, I wasn’t exactly near a phone before I came here. Just got back from a job. Or, well, more like a favor. Otherwise I’d have probably tossed it to you.”

“You came all the way out here for a favor?”

“For an old friend of mine.” Morrison rarely asked much from Dante, so he could hardly refuse. “I always forget how far it is until I actually travel it.”

Nero begins walking back, and Dante follows. He’ll wait a bit before he drops the bit about staying for dinner. He’d like to keep Nero in a good mood. “Yeah, but it’s not like you can really say no to most of your jobs, right?”

“Exactly. Demons need killing and there aren’t a lot of people around to kill them. Unfortunately, sometimes the travel costs are as much, if not more, than what I make from the job. Financially, it’s not worth it.” But he has no choice in the matter. Or he didn’t, until now. “Which got me thinking-”

“You do that?” Nero smirks, the little asshole.

“I do actually run a business and manage my own expenses, you know. All things that require thinking.” Never mind that he’s awful at managing money and that even he knows he’s not a thinker. “Anyway, I have an offer for you.”

Nero raises his brow. “An offer? For what?”

“A job.”

The kid stops in his track and gives him the most disbelieving look. “You came all the way down here to give me a job? You could have just done that on the phone.”

“I don’t mean a job in that sense,” Dante explains. “I mean… it’s more like a position.”

He narrows his eyes a little. “A position.”

Oh boy, he’s botching this. He needs to regroup for a quick second and get this back on track. “Last time we talked, you said you were looking for work. Morrison doesn’t have anything, and neither do I, for now, but it got me thinking.” And it’s something that he’s been wondering about in the back of his mind for some time. He’s killing a few birds with one stone here. “It’s a lot for me to travel this far out for jobs. It’s expensive for Lady and Trish, too. So, I thought… maybe it’s time Devil May Cry expanded. And if it’s gonna expand, it’s gonna need another demon hunter.”

There’s a moment of just pure awe and surprise in Nero’s eyes. He schools it in a flash, but the disbelief is still there as he says, “You’re asking me to join?”

“Why not? You know how to kill demons, and that’s pretty much the only qualification you need.” Dante claps him on the shoulder. “Look, I’m gonna be honest: it’s not steady work. Sometimes there are weeks between jobs. But it could help keep food on the table.” And he won’t let those kids – all five of them – go hungry. Not on his watch. “Whaddya say? Want in?”

And there’s a smile. A real, genuine smile. It’s not something he sees real often from Nero. At least not by anything Dante says or does. “Yeah,” Nero agrees. “I’ve pretty much been demon hunting for years now. Might as well make it official.”

“Welcome to the business. It’s bloody, it’s dirty, it’s sometimes shitty, and you’ll never get recognition for it.” And to make it official, Dante holds out his hand.

“Sounds about right.” Nero grabs it and shakes it, cementing the deal.

Now Devil May Cry is a family business, even if a third of the employees don’t realize it. There’s something about that thought, of running it with family, which squeezes at Dante’s heart. And it doesn’t take him long to realize why.

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, he hoped that when he started his business, Vergil might join him. He never admitted this, not to anyone, not even to Lady. That hope shriveled up when he realized that Vergil would never be interested in that life. In a previous encounter before the Temen-ni-gru and Vergil’s fall to Hell, Vergil made it clear that power was his only concern. They had clashed and left a silent promise to settle the score someday. Dante never understood his brother’s motivations, and he likely never would. When Vergil died on Mallet Island, the dream died with him.

So in a way, it’s that dream come back to life. Not quite exactly how he thought it would, and it’s not entirely the same. Nero isn’t Vergil, and Dante doesn’t expect him to be. But he’s his son and that’s as close as Dante’s ever going to get to him. It’s more than enough.

XVIII

The phone rings. Dante leans his chair back to pick it up and answer, “Devil May Cry.”

“I didn’t know you were sending these to me.”

Dante grins. He’s been waiting for this call. “Hey, you’re running Devil May Cry’s first satellite office. And no office is complete without a damn good neon sign.” Those signs – he sent two just to be safe – were not cheap, but Dante didn’t care. He had wanted to give Nero something for joining. There’s so little he can really give Nero, so he wants to make this count. “So, how’d they turn out? They’re in one piece, right?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. I mean – seriously, I wasn’t expecting this. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Devil May Cry isn’t Devil May Cry without that sign. So now you’re officially in the business.”

There’s a stretch of silence on the other end, before Nero finally says, “Thanks. I mean it. These are really great.”

Dante beams. Hell yes, he did something right on his first try! “So, any idea where you’re gonna put them?”

“Actually, I do. Though it’s not gonna be for a bit.”

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense here.”

“I’ve been thinking, too. Traveling’s expensive. I don’t know how you do it. And while it’s okay to use public transport to go to jobs, if there’s an attack – or even just a real big job – that’s not gonna cut it. Devil May Cry needs to get mobile.”

The kid’s been in the business for a month and already he’s coming up with better ideas than Dante. Ordinarily he might be a little miffed, but frankly, he’s just glad someone’s coming up with them. “Whatcha got in mind?”

“I found an ad for an old RV. Thing’s built like a tank, but it needs a lot of work. Pretty much need to rebuild the engine and the transmission. But once it’s running and everything’s put in, there’s enough space for a couple people to bunk in there. Might even put a small workbench in the back.”

And this is exactly why Dante’s having Nero inherit the business should his luck finally run out one day. Not that Nero knows that, but hey, what’s another secret at this point? “Hey, if you can figure all that out, knock yourself out. Sounds like a hell of a lot of work for one person, though.”

“It is. I have to see if I can rope myself some help.” There’s a loud crack in the background, shortly followed by Nero cursing. “Hey, sorry, gotta go. The kids got into… something. Thanks again, Dante.”

“Sure thing. Adios.”

He hangs up before he lets the chair swing forward so all four legs are on the ground again. “First he has the cooler sword, and now he’s gonna have his own Devil May Cry-mobile.” Dante drums his fingers on his desk. “Kid keeps this up and he’s gonna be cooler than me someday, and there’s no way I’m letting that happen.” He needs to figure out a way to get his own thing going. Maybe he can get that motorcycle he’s always wanted.

Someday. When he actually has the money. Which will be… well, probably never. But a man can dream.

Chapter Text

XIX

Dante had planned on spending the holidays like he has been for over thirty years: alone and very resolutely ignoring all reminders of the holiday season. Sometimes there’s eggnog. There’s always alcohol. Whatever he does, it’s hardly a happy time. He hasn’t celebrated the holidays “properly” since he was eight, and he never planned on doing so again.

But Kyrie – and to a lesser extent Nero – had other ideas.

It’s not like he didn’t have warning. Shortly after New Year’s, he accidentally let slip how he spent the holidays. Kyrie was summarily horrified. Even Nero looked taken aback. Kyrie told Dante that wouldn’t happen again next Christmas. He laughed it off and said “sure” because he didn’t take it seriously. He figured they would forget. Hell, he had forgotten about it.

Then a cheery little holiday card signed by Kyrie and Nero arrived last week. He thought it cute and almost had set it aside after a quick glance… until he realized there was a note at the bottom in delicate penmanship:

                Hi Dante!

                Happy Holidays! Fortuna doesn’t celebrate the same holidays that you do there, but we have pretty similar festivities and traditions. We’d love to have you here to celebrate! Lady and Trish are invited too, of course. Hope to see you soon!

Below that note was another one, scrawled out in a different hand with what little space there was left:

                She’s not taking no for an answer. Get your ass here by Monday.

He wanted to laugh. What were they going to do, drive up and drag him there? But then Dante flashbacked to the last time he was there, when Kyrie’s glare singlehandedly reduced the three raucous boys and Nero to obedient silence. Dante was lucky enough to not have been at the receiving end of it, but the look even had him stiffening in that special kind of terror only a mother can instill. Ignoring her request promised something worse than a glare. And he might joke about them coming up to drag him down there, but the more he thought about it, the more he actually wouldn’t put it past Nero to do that.

Lady and Trish had made other plans, vying for a sunny, warm Christmas at the beach. Which he wouldn’t have joined them for anyway, seeing as the sun and beach are not Dante’s cup of tea. When he mentioned his invitation (demand, really) to Fortuna for the holidays, they of course agreed with Kyrie and admonished him to go for two reasons. One, because he should have a holiday with family and it would be good for him. Two, they could send a few gifts with him and demand that he give the kids their best, along with an apology for not being there.

And that’s how he wound up in Fortuna for Christmas.

Fortuna might not celebrate Christmas, but it still feels like Christmas around there. Colored lights hang along the roofs of many of the houses, and cute little winter decorations adorn many a window. There’s even snow on the ground. All that’s missing, Dante notes, are Christmas trees.

It paints a pretty picture, if one ignores the slightly dilapidated buildings and old wreckage that still plague the city. Seriously, it’s been nearly five years, how the hell long does it take to clean up?

But it’s not his problem, so Dante looks away from the window. Behind him is a scene out of a holiday flick: a roaring fireplace lights the living room and casts shadows across a small pile of presents, while from the kitchen wafts the smell of freshly baked cookies. The kids are piled in there with Kyrie, helping her decorate them.

The door swings open, followed by a rush of cold air before Nero trudges in. He kicks his shoes off as soon as he can before depositing an armful of firewood next to the fireplace. Dante very helpfully shuts the door behind him.

“I thought you were helping with the cookies,” Nero said.

“I was. I got banned from the kitchen.”

“For what?”

“Apparently, not everyone shares the same idea about the cookie to sprinkle ratio that I do.”

From the kitchen, Kyrie chimes in, “There were more sprinkles than there was cookie.”

Julio, the oldest of the kids, adds, “Seriously. You couldn’t even see the cookie after you were done.”

“That’s what makes it great!”

Nero rolls his eyes. “Sprinkles just ruin it.”

Of course he doesn’t like sprinkles. Dante shakes his head, returning to his spot on the couch and resuming his people watching. Just like- No, he doesn’t want to finish that thought. Try as he might, though, his thoughts begin to spiral towards an all too familiar pain.

He watches as Nero squeezes into the kitchen, giving Kyrie a kiss on the cheek before swiping a cookie. She playfully scolds him, but she never stops smiling. The kids are concentrating on their decorating, their brows furrowed thoughtfully.

Take that scene, put it in another kitchen, change a few details, and it could easily be one of the memories Dante has of Christmas during his childhood. What little of it he had, anyway. He remembers helping his mother decorate cookies while he and Vergil fought over the sprinkles. Even back then, he liked cookies with his sprinkles and naturally, Vergil had been the opposite. And in the early days, his father was there as well, fondly watching them and occasionally snatching a cookie when Eva wasn’t looking.

It hurts to remember. It hurts that he only got a few years of it before it was taken away. It hurts that he’s spent every holiday alone since then. It hurts that Vergil and his parents are never going to have another one. It hurts that Nero never got to have one with his family. It just hurts.

Now he remembers why he avoids the holidays.

XX

Luckily, Dante is good at hiding how he’s feeling. He knows how to laugh when he just wants to cry. His pain hides beneath a veneer of amusement as he watches the festivities swirl around him. While he’s not much part of the actual festivities, he at least tries to help where he can, mostly with just keeping the fire going and the kids entertained.

The latter of which isn’t as hard as he thought it would be. They heard about his job and so they’ve been bombarding him with questions. Like, a lot of them. So many damn questions.

“What’s the biggest one you’ve ever fought?”

“Were you scared?”

“Do you have a big sword like Nero?”

“How many have you fought?”

“Why don’t you have a glowing arm like Nero?”

“Can I see your guns?”

And on and on and on. On the one hand, holy crap he feels like he’s walked into the Pre-teen and Under Inquisition. On the other, it’s kind of nice. The kids think he’s, like, super cool (in the words of the middle child, Kyle) and you know, after constantly having to deal with people either insulting him and or trying to kill him, it’s a nice change of pace to be admired.

So he indulges them and answers their questions (with some minor editing as needed). Kyrie and Nero put the kibosh on him showing off any weapons (that was met with a chorus of boos) so he instead just regales them with stories, exaggerating a few things here and there for effect.

“So, just as he went to punch me into the ground, I threw my sword at him. Nailed him right in the eye – his good eye. He was completely blinded and that sent him into a rage, but before I could get myself back up and defeat him, he took off. Never did get to fight him again…”

“Didn’t it hurt to get punched by something that big?” Kyle asks, eyes wide.

“Eh, yeah, a bit, but trust me, after you get stabbed a number of times, getting pummeled into the ground kind of tickles in comparison.”

Nero pops in just then, shooting Dante a mild look before saying to the kids, “Hey, did you guys pick out a movie for tonight?”

Julio looks over at him. “No… we don’t know which one to pick.”

“Hey Dante.” Nero points to a beat up cardboard box in the corner. “You might be able to help here. I got a bunch of old cassettes when I was on the mainland a bit ago. Guy who sold them said there were some holiday movies in there. They weren’t allowed here when the Order was in power, so we’re not really sure which ones are any good.”

He hardly knows any of the modern ones, but he at least has some passing knowledge of the classics. It’s more than what these guys have. “I’ll give it a shot,” he says, getting up to sift through the box and lend his “expertise”.

A lot of it is crap. The titles sound like crappy direct to TV movies that feature a million iterations of the same few plots. He spots Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in the mess, but when he goes to take out the tape, he discovers the tape isn’t Rudolph, but a workout tape. He keeps digging.

There’s a flash of a familiar face, and Dante raises his brow as he pulls out a cassette box with Bruce Willis’s face on the front. Specifically, it’s a tape of Die Hard. Dante falls firmly in the camp that Die Hard is absolutely a Christmas classic, but he stops himself before he recommends it. While Julio’s old enough to handle it, the other two are a bit on the young side, and he gets the feeling Kyrie might not be real thrilled at the kids watching an action flick right before bed. So he sets it aside and resumes his search.

As he nears the bottom, he begins to resign himself to having to tell them that they got a box of junk. But one of the last tapes at the bottom catches his eye. He unearths it after shuffling some of the other tapes around and holds it up.

“What’s that?” Kyle asks.

“It’s a Wonderful Life,” Dante says. He takes out the tape to make sure it matches, and he’s pleasantly surprised to find it does. “This movie was old when I was a kid.”

“How old?” Julio asks, sounding a little skeptical.

“Black and white kind of old.”

“They made movies in black and white?”

Kids these days, they don’t know how good they have it. “Way way back when, they did. Color film wasn’t always a thing. That came after this was released. Still a good movie, though.” It’s one of the few holiday films he’s watched. His mother was particularly fond of it; he remembers she always teared up at the end.

His heart squeezes in grief. Maybe they shouldn’t-

“Hey Nero!” Kyle calls out. “We found a movie that Dante says is good! It’s so old, color wasn’t invented yet!”

Nero slowly leans into view, his brow furrowed in rather understandable confusion. “Wh… Kyle, color has been around for forever.”

“But Dante said it wasn’t always a thing.” Kyle looks betrayed, thinking Dante tricked him.

“I said color film hasn’t always been around.” He gently taps the tape against his forehead. “I promise, the world wasn’t in black and white before the 1960s.”

“…oh.”

Dante’s just glad the kid leaves it at that and doesn’t ask how color versus black and white film works, because then he’ll reveal just how unknowledgeable he really is, and so far the kids think he knows everything and he’d really hate to ruin that. It’s so fun to feel like the smart one for a change.

After dinner is had and everything is cleaned up (of which Dante contributed by ever so helpfully putting all the dishes in the sink), everyone gathers into the living room to watch the movie Dante picked out. Nero and Kyrie take the couch, with the littlest one, Carlo, cuddling up against them. Kyle and Julio sprawl out on the floor in front of the TV, leaving the armchair for Dante. He pops the tape into the player and leans back, fingers figuratively crossed that it still works.

A few white lines cross the screen, there’s a whir and then the movie starts. Dante plunks down into his armchair and gets settled in for the next two hours and fifteen minutes.

He’s surprised by how much he remembers. As soon as the opening scene plays, he begins to piece together the rest, even though it’s been over thirty years since he last saw the movie. But though this isn’t the first time he’s seen it, it is the first time he’s seen it as an adult. And the movie takes on a whole new meaning from the perspective of a grown man.

As George’s life plays out in flashbacks, Dante feels a strange sensation tightening in his chest. He shifts uncomfortably, trying to dislodge it. But it keeps growing as the movie continues. Trying to ignore it, he steals glances at the kids. The ones on the floor move around some, not entirely enraptured with the movie. He can’t quite see those on the couch without turning around entirely. He does hear Kyrie whisper “Oh no” when George’s uncle accidentally leaves the money in the newspaper, and occasionally they explain things to the kids as needed.

Then they return to the opening scene. Dante sits up a little. This is where the movie hits its stride.

Clarence intervenes and introduces himself to George. In a twisted way, he grants George his wish, but he doesn’t give him death. He gives him a look at a different world, one where George never existed. And it’s here that the floor-bound kids stop wriggling around and really start to pay attention.

That feeling from earlier returns in force. Dante keeps a straight face as always, but inside he’s wrestling with it, trying to identify it and banish it. It’s not the grief or even the bittersweet feeling he expected to feel while watching it. It grows as George travels through Potterstown, horrified at the world that’s so familiar and yet so alien. Finally, George can no longer take it and returns to the bridge, begging Clarence to send him back.

A smile forms, despite himself. Dante feels a little silly, but he can’t quite help it as George tears through Bedford Falls, overjoyed to be back in his world and living in it. The final scene in George’s house always struck Dante as a bit corny when he was a kid, but as an adult, it feels so gratifying. Still corny, sure, but there’s something so, well, wonderful about the way everyone pitches in to help George in the end. He dares another glance at the kids; they’re smiling, too.

The last minute plays. George finds the book on the table and Zuzu opens it. Clarence’s words sprawl out on the page: No man who has friends is a failure. And that feeling that’s been haunting Dante since early on rears back and sucker punches him in the stomach. His throat tightens, and catching him even more by surprise are the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He swallows thickly and beats them back. Even when the credits roll, he doesn’t dare to look back yet. He can’t.

“Did George want to die just because he was gonna go to jail?” Kyle asks.

“It was for many reasons,” Kyrie answers. “His life didn’t go the way he wanted and he felt like a failure because of it.”

Julio pipes up, “That’s why Clarence wrote in that book what he did.”

“Mmhmm. Even though life doesn’t always go the way we hope, there’s still good to be found. Clarence wanted George to realize that his life was wonderful the way it was, even though things were hard and didn’t go as George planned. As long as you keep living and having your friends and family with you, things can always turn around.”

…oh. Oh. Okay. He gets it. Now he understands where this feeling came from.

Dante turns around, a little more confident that he’s not going to look teary-eyed. “What’d ya think?”

“Hell of a dark start,” Nero comments, “but I liked it okay.”

“I really enjoyed it,” Kyrie says. “I was a little worried with the way it had started, but as it got further in I saw where it was going. I’m glad we have it. We’ll definitely have to watch it again next year.” She looks between the kids. “Do you agree?”

There are three nods, and a small “Yeah!” from Carlo.

“All right.” Kyrie picks up Carlo. “It’s a little past your bedtime. Come on, everyone upstairs.”

The kids seem tired enough not to complain. The two on the floor get up and trudge after Kyrie.

Dante stops the player and presses rewind. As he leaves it to sort itself out, he looks over his shoulder at Nero. “What are you two gonna do once the rugrats are in bed?”

“Dunno,” Nero says as he gets up and stretches out his arms and back. “Probably should clean up, and then maybe get to bed.”

Okay, Dante might not be the best judge of when people are working too hard, given that he’s a slob and lazy is his default mode unless he’s on a job, but even he knows these two need a break. He shakes his head. “You know, the dishes aren’t going anywhere and you don’t get a lot of kid-free time. Why don’t you two watch something on your own? There’s one in there that’s good but kinda isn’t kid-friendly.” Yes, because Bruce Willis shooting terrorists and yippee-ki-yaying is only kinda not kid-friendly.

“There’s too much to do. Tomorrow’s gonna be preparing for the holiday so-”

“Kid.”

“-and Kyrie’s gonna be baking up a storm and I’ve got to-”

“Kid.”

“What?”

“Stop.” Dante crosses his arms. “You’ve got all of tomorrow to do it. It’s almost Christmas for crying out loud. Give yourself a break. One damn night of relaxing is not going to set you back all that much.”

He sees Nero set his jaw stubbornly. Bring it on, kid. I mastered the stubborn stand-off before you were even born.

Kyrie comes down the stairs just as the stand-off begins. “What’s… going on?”

“Nero was just telling me how you two were gonna take it easy for tonight,” Dante quickly says before Nero can answer. “Watching a movie. Another holiday classic.”

“Are we? We have-”

“Yes, yes you are,” Dante butts in, pointing at the couch as he picks up Die Hard. The cassette player pops, signaling the tape is done rewinding. Dante ejects it and immediately puts in Die Hard. “Merry damn Christmas, I’m making you two take a night off by watching Willis and Rickman at some of their finest.”

Nero looks ready to punch him again (knowing Nero, it’s not about the intent of what he’s doing but rather how Dante is making them do it) but Kyrie laughs a little, dissipating the tension. “Okay. A night off would be nice. Are you going to watch, too?”

“Nope.” Dante leaves the tape to play as he heads for the front door. “Gonna take a walk.”

Nero whips around. “It’s almost 9 ‘o clock and it’s snowing out. Why-”

“Best weather kind of weather for a walk.” It’s one of the perks of being half-demon; it takes an extreme amount of heat or cold to really bother him. Just below freezing and some snow aren’t going to bother him. “You kids enjoy.” He pushes open the door and strolls out before his nephew tries to argue with him more.

Snow immediately pelts him as he steps outside. His breath floats above him as he breathes out a sigh. It’s nice, cold and quiet out here. He needs some time to think, and he can’t quite do it in there. Not with all the people and warmth and distractions.

But as he starts walking, he hears the front door open. He only barely has time to turn around before a winter coat gets thrown directly into his face.

“At least wear a damn coat!” Nero snaps.

“Do you not see this beautiful red leather-”

“Which is not insulated, idiot.” Nero rolls his eyes before shutting the door.

Dante snorts, taking the coat and pulling it on. It fits awkwardly because of his leather duster, but whatever. At least the kid cares enough to make him wear it. He looks weird, he’s sure, walking around in a thick fluffy pink coat over a red leather duster, but whatever. If any townspeople are out, they’re already suspicious of him so odd wardrobe choices aren’t exactly going to make or break their impression of him.

Now that he’s finally alone, Dante thinks back to the movie. The feeling in his chest reveals itself: empathy. Particularly the kind that sneaks up on a person in a moment when they least expect it. As a kid, George Bailey struck him as… well, weak. Maybe even a bit of a coward. Hey, he was eight and he thought he could fight anything. George running from the police made him look like a wuss.

Nearly thirty-five years between then and now have changed George’s character in Dante’s eyes. Where he once saw a coward, now he sees… himself. Oh sure, they have drastically different situations, and Dante could easily argue George was better off than he is. George had a family and a steady job and a whole town full of friends who pulled through for him. Not to mention a guardian angel.

But that’s not really the point, is it?

Dante shoves his hands into the coat’s pockets as he wanders farther out. George Bailey had envisioned a great life for himself, but none of it panned out the way he wanted. He tried so hard, but often his plans went sideways. He felt like a failure, and he was so sure he was one that he wanted to end his own life.

Dante’s all too familiar with it.

As a half-demon, he’s very hard to kill. He knows this. It’s saved his ass countless times. It should be an entirely positive thing. But there have been moments where Dante wished it wasn’t so, moments where he would hope that the next job he got would be his last. Someday, something was bound to kill him. Someday his luck would run out. And that’d be it. If the religious folk are right, he’d get to finally see the family he so desperately missed. Dying would be a small price to pay for being rid of the failures and regrets that have haunted his every step these past three decades. If he were entirely human, he may very well have ended up like George, staring off the side of a bridge and considering that leap.

No man who has friends is a failure.

Dante doesn’t have them in the number that George did, but he did have them all the same. Lady and Trish, Morrison and Patty, Lucia and Matier. Just a handful of friends, but for very many years, they were the reasons he came back from his jobs.

Then five years ago, he came to this place to reclaim his brother’s sword and found something a lot better. Dante has friends, and he has family now, too. It’s one member, just one, but it’s enough. It’s enough to keep him going. He can’t tell Nero so many things, but just having him in the world makes his life just enough brighter to keep going. He’s lost so much, but he’s slowly gained things, too.

By now he’s wandered pretty far into town. He’s just yards away from the main thoroughfare towards the cathedral where he met Nero. The bells begin to chime, signaling the new hour. He slows to a stop, listening to the bells toll as he stands in the mostly empty street.

Maybe… maybe it’s time to make like George Bailey and stop dwelling on what he’s lost and failed to do and instead focus on what he does have. He’s looked back and lamented for so long, he’s not even sure how to look forward. But he needs to try. It’s not like being a depressed lump has gotten him anywhere. No amount of remorse and self-recrimination will bring his parents or his brother back. If anything, it’ll make him miss what’s in front of him.

He turns on his heel and begins to walk back the way he came. Old habits die hard, and he has no idea how he’s going to do this, but he wants to try. That’s more than what he’s done in a long time. Maybe he can start tomorrow, when the holiday celebration starts in earnest. Instead of lamenting Christmases past and lost, he can just be glad that this Christmas won’t be spent alone. He can stop just watching and start participating. Whether or not he’ll manage remains to be seen. But he owes it to himself, and what family he has, to try.

It’s been well over an hour when he returns to Nero’s home. As he steps inside, he’s greeted with the sounds of gunfire from the TV. He hangs up his coat. “Oh yeah, this is when it starts getting really-” He trails off as he comes around the corner to find Nero and Kyrie dozing off on the couch. She’s laying against Nero, snuggled up to his side. His arm’s draped around her and holding her close.

“How the hell do you fall asleep during Die Hard?” Dante mutters, shaking his head fondly. “Guess that’s what happens when you work too hard.” Ah well, he’ll just make them rewatch it with him another night.

He debates whether or not to wake them up, but after a quick deliberation he decides to leave them be. He’s tired himself. But before he goes upstairs, he grabs the throw blanket on the back of the couch and drapes it over them. He glances at Nero, still soundly asleep. A smile tugs at his lips, and his hand reaches out to gently ruffle his short shorn hair. It’s a rare display of affection Dante doesn’t usually risk, but he’s feeling a little more sentimental than normal. He so rarely gets a chance to just be his uncle and not have to keep up the façade he’s been maintaining for almost five years.

With that, he makes for his bedroom. It’s a rather small room, made even smaller by all the weird gizmos and mechanical parts piled up in the corners. They’re the property of the woman that’s been staying with Nero and Kyrie for the past… Dante can’t remember how long it’s been exactly, but it’s been awhile. He’s using her bedroom to crash while she’s visiting her uncle for the holidays.

Dante’s not much of one for sleepwear. He kicks off his boots, hangs up his duster, and then peels off what he’s wearing. He picks up an old shirt and tosses it on. Boom, ready for bed. As he climbs into bed, his mind wanders back to the thoughts he had during his walk.

He doesn’t have much compared to most, but what he has is precious to him. It’s a fragile little world he’s built, and he’s all too aware of how easily it can be broken and torn away from him. But he’s not going to let it go without one hell of a fight. He’s lost too much. What little he has left he’ll cling onto like a bulldog. There’s hope that life’s finally done kicking him in the teeth, that maybe he’ll finally have some peace and continue to build on what he has.

It does last for a little while. Christmas comes and goes, Dante returns to his shop and keeps in touch with Nero. The weather begins to warm up, and while jobs are scarce, at least it means nothing bad is happening.

And nothing does… until May.

Chapter Text

XXI

May 3^rd. A day that’s slightly warmer than normal for this time of year. Even at 8 PM, Devil May Cry is stuffy and warm. It doesn’t help that the ceiling fans aren’t running, and that’s because the power is off.

Yup, Dante’s broke again. What else is new?

He’s leaning back in his chair, magazine on his face to catch some shut-eye while he patiently waits and hopes a client comes through the door. It rarely works, but tonight, he’s in luck.

The door swings open. Dante pulls the magazine back a bit to see who it is. When he catches sight of his visitor, he immediately places it back on his face. “You could have at least knocked, Morrison.”

“Yeah, I could have.” Dante hears him approach his desk. “I got some good news and some bad news…”

He hears his empty pizza box being opened. Nice try, he thinks. He knows better than to leave pizza out for the vultures to get to it.

Morrison walks over to the couch. “Pick your poison: which you wanna hear first?”

Dante yawns as he grabs the magazine and tosses it onto the floor. Morrison doesn’t seem to be going anywhere for now, so there’s no point in trying to keep sleeping. “Just speak.”

“Bad news it is.” Morrison takes a seat, sitting comfortably on the old leather couch. “Lady Patty’s feathers are all ruffled. See, she wants to invite you to her birthday party, but your phone is disconnected.”

Oh God. Dante and social events do not mix well. But rather than admit that, he quips back with, “You’re a smart one, Morrison. You notice the electric and water are out, too?”

“I expected nothing less.” Morrison is all too familiar with Dante’s terrible spending habits.

Dante snorts. “So what’s the good news?”

“Oh, I got a gig. Cash, up front.”

Now that gets Dante excited. He pushes forward and swivels towards Morrison, a grin in place. “Cash up front? Now this I like.” There is no better job than one that pays immediately. It doesn’t matter what the work is. With how cash poor his business is, the sooner money gets in his bank account, the better. “The water needs turning on, and those toilets need flushing.” Desperately. The bathroom is getting, well… let’s go with rank to put it mildly.

Morrison sits up and pulls out an envelope. He hands it to Dante. “Water, gas, and power… comin’ outta your cut. You’re a real agency now.”

Fair is fair. That money would go towards the bills anyway. And it’s all the better because Morrison apparently paid for the bills before he got there. Just seconds later, everything turns back on. The momentary victory is quelled by the ringing of his phone.

He grabs it and picks up. “Devil May Cry.”

And out blares the all too familiar, peppy voice of Patty. Dante rears his head back from the sheer force of her voice as she prattles on excitedly about her birthday party and how she’s turning eighteen. Dante turns the phone towards Morrison, who can easily hear her rambling on. Dante shakes his head and hangs up. It’s going to piss off Patty something fierce, but she’s known Dante for ten years now. She knows how he is. And besides, he doesn’t intend to ignore her birthday entirely. Just… the party. He does not do parties. He has to pretend to be normal and mingle with people who talk about their mundane problems and mundane lives. They live in a world that he has very little foothold in, and he’d just feel immensely awkward and out of place. Once he’s back from whatever job Morrison got him, he’ll take her out to make up for it.

Of course, seconds after he hangs up, she immediately calls back. Dante yanks the line out of the phone. Her persistence serves her well, but he’s not putting up with it tonight, especially when he’s got a job to do.

“Okay, Morrison. I’ll take you up on that gig, but only if you get me out of that hellish birthday party.” Yeah, right, like he wouldn’t take it anyway.

“Consider your RSVP declined.”

Dante does a little fist pump. Morrison’ll smooth things over with Patty; he’s good at playing the mediator. Hopefully she won’t be quite as irritated with him when he sees her next.

Morrison gestures to the door. “Meet your new client.”

In a perfectly timed move, a young looking man with dark hair and dark clothes comes inside. He leans against the other door, a book in one hand and a cane in the other. He doesn’t look up.

Dante’s eyes narrow a little. Something… well, it doesn’t feel right. Something about the man makes his hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He’s never seen him before, he knows he hasn’t, but there’s a familiarity to him he can’t place. The book in his hand is a hard cover, plain brown with some lightly ornate decorative details. The only distinct thing about it is the large embossed V on the front. Okay, now he knows he’s seen that book before, but he can’t place where.

“Listen,” Morrison cuts in, walking towards the door. “I’m gonna find Lady and Trish and bring ‘em in on this.”

“What?! C’mon, you don’t think I can handle this gig on my own?” Not that he minds their company, but more people on a mission means splitting the pay, something Dante can’t really afford to do right now.

“It’s a big job, Dante… Big job.” Morrison strides out the door. “You’re gonna need the help.”

Dante waves him off, miffed at having probably unnecessary help shoved onto him. He sighs. Fine, whatever. But he can’t keep looking like a pouty little kid, not in front of the client. It’s not exactly professional. So he quickly puts on a neutral but friendly expression as he asks, “So, what’s your name?”

The man begins to walk forward, still looking at his book. “I have no name. I am but two days old.”

Dante just… he doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s honestly at a loss for words, and that’s hard to do. All he manages is a blink as his brain whirs, trying to figure out an appropriate response. What. The. Fu-

Finally, the man looks up. He smiles a little, leaning a bit heavily on his cane. “Just kidding. You can call me V.”

Not exactly Dante’s idea of a good joke, but sure, whatever, fine. He’ll roll with it. “Okay, V… Why don’t you tell me everything about this job?”

“A powerful demon is about to resurrect, and we need your help, Dante.”

“Now that’s a familiar tune,” Dante says with a laugh, getting up to take a seat on the couch. He’s been sitting in his desk chair too long. Besides, this doesn’t sound like it’s going to be a real big deal, so he’s a bit less worried about the professional demeanor. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that exact same line?”

“This is… special.”

He does not like how he says that word. In the back of his mind, a little alarm begins to go off. “Special? Okay, so what’s so special about this one?”

“This demon… is your ‘reason’. Your reason for fighting.”

“This demon got a name?” That little alarm in the back of his head starts getting louder.

There’s a pause, and Dante leans forward. V then utters a name that Dante never would have expected.

“Vergil.”

And that alarm turns into a full blown cacophony. Dante jerks back a little, almost as if V struck him physically. No, this can’t be – this is a lie. V somehow obtained information about him and is using his past to get to him. Dante pushes his anger down and instead forces out a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but it’s not working. Nice touch and all, what with trying to use my brother, but he’s dead.”

V doesn’t move. “Are you so sure?”

“Yeah, actually, I am.” Dante gets up and has half a mind to grab his sword. “I was there when it happened.”

“You were, yes. And you have every reason to think that he died.” V leans against his cane, determined and undeterred. “But you of all people should know that your brother’s not the type to… give up so easily.”

“There was nothing easy about it.” Dante walks away from him, muscles coiled in barely restrained rage as he eyes the weapons on his wall. “If you’re done bullshitting me, then you need to-”

“If a demon – or even a half-demon’s will is strong enough, it’s not impossible to survive even a fatal blow,” V cuts him off, eyes boring into him with an intensity that feels strangely familiar. “Consider Mundus. You killed him, did you not? But even you know he’ll return one day. And you yourself have survived blows that should have killed you.”

“Vergil practically evaporated. He disappeared. How does someone bounce back from that?”

“Slowly and painfully.”

Dante stares down V, jaw clenched and fist bunched. He forces himself to relax, and he forces out another laugh. “Okay. Let’s say I believe you. I don’t, but I’ll indulge you for a sec. What exactly is my ‘brother’ up to?”

V begins to pace, twirling his cane in his hand as he moves about the room. “Your brother survived your last fight, but at great cost. And in the intervening years, he’s been barely holding himself together. He fought and killed his way to survive, but he reached his limit. In a desperate bid to regain power, he did the only thing he could think of: cut away all the weakness in him. His humanity, his heart, and his nightmares. They’re all gone from him.” He stops his pacing and looks squarely at Dante. “What do you think he’ll do, now that what humanity he had in him is no longer there to keep him in check?”

“This doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.” And yet somehow it does, because it sounds like something Vergil would do. “So you’re saying that my brother survived our last fight, and for the past fifteen years he’s been alive. And he cut out parts of himself? He separated his humanity from his demonic side?”

“Exactly.”

“And how did he manage that?”

Guilt flashes across V’s face. His grip on his cane tightens. “With the only weapon capable of cutting through anything.” He almost looks away, but he forces himself to keep looking at Dante. “Yamato.”

Nero. Even the usually-composed Dante can’t stop the terror that blasts through him. He can’t bring himself together enough to rein it in. No. No no no, God no this is not happening. This is a nightmare. It has to be. Please tell me he’s making all this up. “How did he-”

“By force.” V, clearly seeing Dante’s distress which becomes absolutely apparent, adds, “If you’re concerned about the boy, he survived. Though not without serious injury. He lost his arm in the process.”

Dante left Yamato with Nero so he could have something of his father. But instead, he just painted a target on his back. God, if he had even the tiniest, slightest inclination that Vergil could ever come back for it someday, he’d have never, ever left it with Nero.

He glances at his phone. He’s been without power for a week now. Kyrie probably tried to call him but couldn’t get through. All because he can’t manage his money for shit. Damn it, god fucking- No, this isn’t the time to beat himself up for this. He can do plenty of that later.

But at least Nero is alive. Quickly replacing the relief comes fury. If V’s telling the truth – and Dante is slowly beginning to believe him – then he’s going to kill Vergil for this. Absolutely kill him, and this time he’s going to make sure it sticks. How dare he lay a hand on Nero, his own son no less. Nero met his father, something Dante never thought would happen, and of course it ended with Vergil nearly killing him. That smug, idiotic, infuriating asshole.

“Where is he?” Dante asks, his voice low.

“I’m not entirely certain, but I think he’ll be in Redgrave City. It all began there for him. And for you. It’s where he severed himself, and I believe it’s where he’ll make his next move. We need to hurry, before he can do any lasting damage.” V leans into his cane. “If you don’t believe me about your brother, fine, but there is a demon that is going to attack and it is going to cause immeasurable damage if it’s not stopped. Believe that, if nothing else.”

Dante says nothing, only walking to where Rebellion hangs. He’s going to bring everything he has to this. If this pure-demon version of Vergil really exists, he’s going to make things difficult. A part of Dante still doubts, but everything V laid out to him demands an immediate response.

All his gear in tow, Dante heads for the door, flicking off the lights as V silently follows behind him. As he walks into the warm May night, a rough plan forms in his head:

1. Find Vergil and see if V is actually telling the truth. He really hopes not, but he has a bad feeling it’s all true.
2. Obliterate him. For added effect, he’ll try to rip off one of his arms and beat him with it.
3. Make sure he’s dead this time. Murder as necessary to ensure maximum dead-ness.
4. Take back Yamato.
5. Head to Fortuna and do whatever he can to help Nero.

Forgive me, Nero. For putting you in your old man’s path… and for taking him away. Again.

XXII

Step one went off without a hitch. He most certainly found Vergil. He felt his presence even before he saw him. It turns out V was telling the truth.

Step two… is not exactly going well. See, he’s hit a bit of a snag. If one considers Vergil handing his, Lady, and Trish’s asses to them on a tentacle-y platter to be a snag. But let’s call it for what it is: a disaster.

Dante skids across the ground, landing with a wince on his back. He hasn’t even landed a hit on Vergil. That crystal thing keeps absorbing all his attacks. There’s something familiar about the thing, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. But that’s the least of his concerns right now. His brother stares at him with a menacing but bored expression, head in his hand as he sits upon his lofty, unnerving throne.

Suddenly the entryway opens and someone walks in. Dante cranes his head back. When he sees who it is, his stomach drops.

Nero looks upon the scene with surprise, taken aback by the sight of three skilled fighters sprawled out on the floor in pain.

Why is he – V. Damn it, that prick brought him here?! Dante swears that if he gets out of this alive, he’s gonna wring V’s neck. It’s bad enough the kid lost his arm. Now Nero’s about to square off with Vergil who’s on what could essentially be chalked up to demonic steroids, all because V dragged him here.

Nero’s quick to react when Vergil sends a tentacle out towards Dante. Two bullets from the Blue Rose knock it back. “Well… Looks like this won’t be a total waste of time after all,” Nero says as he stares down the demon on the throne. “Hey, jackass! Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s not nice to steal?”

She did, actually.

When Vergil says nothing, Nero just huffs out a laugh before he looks at his uncle. “Sorry, Dante.” He whips out Red Queen and slams it into the ground, revving it. “I’m baggin’ this bitch!”

He absolutely will not, but Dante’s still unable to really move so stopping him is out of the question. He can only watch as Nero attempts taking on Vergil, having about as much luck hitting him as his older cohorts did. To Nero’s credit, he does well enough, given that he’s working with just one arm, but it’s not nearly enough. One short battle later, Vergil knocks Nero hard enough to send him into the wall. He drops and rolls across the ground, grunting when he stops.

Just then, V finally walks in. Dante sees his horrified expression in his periphery. He senses something forming near Vergil, a surge of energy that promises what’s sure to be a lot more pain, if not worse. He cranes his head to see him forming a ball of energy in his hand… and he’s aiming it right at Nero.

Fuck. No.

It’s enough to send a wave of renewed vigor through him. He grabs his guns and quickly fires at his hand. It disrupts the spell. Vergil looks unimpressed, though he finally pays Dante attention again.

Dante forces on a grin and laughs. “Round two!” It’s time to go balls to the walls on his brother and finish this.

He activates his devil form and swings Rebellion off his back. With a roar he charges at Vergil, putting everything into the attack. Vergil raises his hand and blocks him, creating some kind of barrier that Dante smashes Rebellion against, trying to overpower it enough to break through.

It’s a contest of wills, as it always is. Dante presses harder against the barrier, but it doesn’t budge, and Vergil doesn’t even look like he’s trying much. And it’s then that an awful realization finally dawns on Dante: he’s not winning this battle. He’s going all out and he can’t even touch Vergil. This demonic manifestation of Vergil wields too much power. As Dante is now, he can’t do anything against him. And yes, it’s a hell of a blow to his pride, because he’s about to lose to his brother. But more than that, when he does lose, the city will be the one paying for it.

Still, he can’t give up, even though he’s becoming resigned to the imminent loss. He looks over his shoulder and shouts, “V, get Nero out of here! This was a bad move!” On so many levels.

Nero staggers to his feet, barely able to stand. Yet he insists, “I can still fight!”

This is so not the time for him to be doing this. And Dante knows that if Nero has his way, he’ll keep trying. So he says whatever he can to try and make him leave. “Nero, go! You’re just dead weight!”

(It needs to be noted here that Dante is fully aware he’s being a jerk. It’s intentional. It’s meant to wound Nero but also make him realize that he can’t help here and needs to retreat. Must be cruel in order to be kind and all that. He’s trying to save his ass.

But in about a month he’s going to immensely regret those choice of words.)

The ceiling begins to cave in, and Nero’s words get drowned out in the cacophony. Dante vaguely hears something about a bastard and wasting time. He spares one last glance to make sure the two get out of the room before redoubling his efforts against Vergil. The energy from their powers clashing continues to build.

Then, Vergil suddenly draws his hand back and makes a fist. He punches it straight at Dante. Instinctively, Dante blocks the blow with Rebellion. The force of the punch knocks him back and out of his devil form. In the process, Rebellion shatters.

He crashes to the ground, the hilt of Rebellion skittering to a halt near him. The rest of his cherished sword lies in pieces along the ground. But he doesn’t have time to even absorb the shock of the loss. As he grunts in pain, he hears more of those tentacles slithering out towards him.

“This… is power,” Vergil declares, wrapping Dante up in those tentacles. They squeeze and choke him, his vision beginning to go black.

Trish groans, but with a strained heave she uses the last of her strength to chuck the Sparda at him. Dante manages to get an arm out of the mass of tentacles and catch the sword. Its power surges through him, giving him another desperately needed burst of strength and knocking back the tentacles.

He triggers his devil form once more, panting in exertion as he rips out a tentacle from his chest. It’s all or nothing now. In what he knows may very well be a suicidal charge, he hurls himself at Vergil once more. Again he clashes with the barrier, but Vergil no longer seems willing to draw this out. With a burst of energy he knocks Dante back. He goes flying up and back, crashing through the ceiling and out from the tree.

Don’t let this be it, is all he manages to think before he smashes through the ground and falls. His vision goes black, and then… nothing.

Chapter Text

XXIII

It’s hardly the first time he’s had this dream. Or flashback to be more precise. His mind has brought him back to that awful day more times than he can count. Even though it’s been over thirty years since he lost his mother, he remembers the day so vividly. He can still smell the fire burning and hear the shrieks of the demons outside their home. He still sees his mother’s face, trying so hard to be strong. And most of all, he remembers her dying scream.

But before he gets any further into the memory, instinct kicks him awake just in time to see V bringing the Sparda down on his head. Well, near his head as it turns out. It slams into the ground right next to it. V smirks a little as Dante fully awakens.

Dante groans as he sits up. His body doesn’t take to it too kindly; his muscles are super stiff. He looks over his shoulder to see V plopping down onto the ground, a little winded by the exertion. “For a second there I thought you were gonna shish kabob me.”

“I know how stubborn you can be,” V explains. “I thought it might be the only way to wake you.”

Dante’s not sure quite what he means by that, considering they barely know each other. Whatever, he’s got bigger worries, so he moves on and asks, “What day is it?” He can tell it’s been awhile, if his stiff back and the pile of rubble around him are any indication.

“The 15^th… of June.”

Shit. “A month?” He finally gets to his feet, stretching out his back and shoulders. “No wonder I’m so stiff.” It means Vergil’s had a whole month to get stronger. By now the city’s beyond saving. It hardly sits well with Dante, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. On the bright side, he doesn’t have to worry about further collateral damage.

As he keeps stretching out his various limbs, he hears Griffon flap his way over to him and immediately the bird gets to rambling. “Riiiight, sunshine, now put a fire under it. We gotta get goin’ because that annoying pimple Nero is making a beeline for Urizen. And if he gets there he’s gonna be-”

And that is certainly enough. Since Griffon doesn’t know the meaning of “shut up,” Dante opts instead to simply grab him by the beak and fling him to the side. But that doesn’t stop the bird from finishing, “-smashed like a bug!”

Right. Nero. And that reminds Dante that he needs to throttle V for dragging the kid into this. He turns and walks towards him. “Hey, this is my gig. Leave Nero out of this.” It’s easier to pretend that that’s what he’s upset about.

V slowly gets to his feet. He… looks a little green around the gills, so to speak, so Dante decides to just stick to throwing words at him. “If you could defeat Urizen… then I never would have dreamed of using that child.”

Ouch. Low blow, V. But, as much as he hates it, V’s right. He wasn’t able to defeat Vergil – or Urizen as V calls him – and so V was forced to resort to the next best option. He can’t really blame him, even if he’s still mad as hell about it.

“But Urizen… is much stronger than we ever could have imagined.” V picks up his cane, still panting but willing himself to keep going. “And our last hope, Nero… was completely useless.”

V is most certainly not pulling his punches today. Dante shakes his head and begins to move. “All right, enough’s enough.” Dante grabs the Sparda and rests it on his shoulder. It’s time to get to work. “Can’t let a boy do a man’s job.” Apparently Dante isn’t pulling his punches, either.

“Hey, wait! I’m not done talking-” V suddenly collapses, cane clanging onto the ground.

It’s enough to make Dante pause and turn. V’s not doing hot, but Dante doesn’t have the time to look after him. “Okay, you get some rest.” He begins walking but pauses as he adds, “By the way, I guess I owe you one.” He leaves on that note and merrily goes on his way. He’s got too much shit to do to hang around here any longer than necessary.

Ultimately Vergil – Urizen, whatever – is his goal, but he can’t just go charging at him. Much like Nero is doing now, which worries him quite a bit. He definitely needs to get to Vergil before Nero does, but that’s going to be a little hard considering the kid has a head start on him. There’s also the fact that if he goes straight to his brother now he, too, will get smashed like a bug. Urizen’s only gotten stronger, he’s sure, and Dante spent a month sleeping.

He… well, he has something of an idea. Whether or not it’ll work, he can’t say. But there’s only one way to find out.

XXIV

Dante’s all grins and jokes when he’s around other people, but when he’s alone, it’s a bit different.

He gripes his way through the ruins, sprinkling in some commentary about his surroundings. It’s all just an attempt to distract himself from his thoughts which are considerably less lighthearted.

The short version is, he’s honestly pretty pissed off.

The long version is, he’s honestly pretty pissed off because everything that he’s built up over the last few years – and perhaps even further back – threatens to come crashing down around him.

Vergil kicked down the door into Dante’s life and proceeded to pretty much trash everything. He attacked Nero and nearly killed him. He created a super powerful demon that has leveled a city – the one of their childhood home – and has killed hundreds of thousands of people. He kicked his ass. He broke his sword. He knocked him out for a month and probably did something awful to Lady and Trish. And now he’s doing God only knows what that’s likely going to result in even more destruction if Dante doesn’t stop him, which as of right now, he does not have the means to do.

This is easily the worst situation Dante has ever been in during his adult life.

He rolls his shoulders. Gotta find a way somehow. And if my theory’s correct, there just might be a way. He just needs to find where he’s headed, hidden somewhere among all the ruins and demon tree crap. Luckily, even after all this time, he still knows the way.

XXV

The shit day does have a bright spot.

After a tango with Trish-in-a-devil-meat-suit, he frees her. The pieces of that meat suit merge with the sawed-in-half motorcycle Trish-in-a-devil-meat-suit tossed at him (one for old time’s sake?). Whatever demon magic remained in the suit repairs the motorcycle and fuses with it. The result is something Dante has wanted since forever:

A motorcycle… that he can fight with. And it didn’t cost him a penny.

It’s fucking awesome, and once Dante safely leaves Trish with V, he takes off, hooting and hollering as he whizzes on by. Nero’s not the only one that gets to have a badass vehicle, and Dante is so rubbing this in his face when it’s all over.

More importantly, the new ride also buys him desperately needed time, getting him to his destination a lot sooner than he expected. But he’s not quite where he needs to be just yet.

Dante rubs the back of his head as he looks down at the fountain. Underneath it he knows there’s a hidden entrance, but now he has to figure out how to get said fountain to move.

A quick investigation reveals that blood is the key. It’s kind of gross, honestly, but hey, he doesn’t exactly have any water around to fill the fountain up, so he’ll have to make do. He just hopes that this is the fountain he’s thinking of and that he’s not about to waste that time he just bought.

After all… it’s not like he’s ever come home this way before.

XXVI

As he emerges from the underground passage, he’s shocked to see the house. He didn’t expect a mostly intact building; he expected a pile of rubble.

“Holy shit… Can’t believe any of this is still standing.”

It begins to rain, darkening the sky as he approaches the house he once called home. In a way, it still is, but he can’t ever claim it. Hell, he never thought he’d come back here. He couldn’t bring himself to before today. Too many ghosts haunt these walls, and Dante’s never struck up the courage to face them. Now, though, he knows he must.

There’s an enormous hole in the front hall where the front door used to be. Urizen’s – no, fuck it, Vergil is Vergil – Vergil’s doing, no doubt.

Dante steps into the now ruined room. The faces of his family stare down at him from above the fireplace, their figures marred and runny from the rainwater. He stares back at them. That painting and this house stand for all that he loved and all that he lost. It’s here that his fondest childhood memories dwell, and it’s here where that childhood ended in blood and tragedy.

Somehow it feels right to be here, and he understands why Vergil came here to do what he did, even though he can’t fathom why he did it. This specter of their past witnessed Vergil’s moment (of triumph or destruction?), and that same specter will bear witness to what Dante’s about to do.

“There you are!” In flies Griffon, panting as he soars up towards the ceiling. When Dante says nothing, he turns and shouts, “Hey! What’s wrong with you?”

Dante approaches the painting, working up the nerve for what he needs to do.

“Hey! Hey, Dante!” The bird actually begins to sound worried.

“The demonic power was activated in me once when Vergil lovingly jammed this through my chest.” Dante pulls out the hilt of Rebellion. That hilt and the bit of blade that sticks out from it are all that’s left of the sword his father gave him. He’s been trying his damnedest not to think about the loss. It had been his partner for over thirty years, protecting him from when he was small and helpless until he was a legendary demon hunter. It deserves a better end than what Vergil gave it.

He stares down at it, his brow furrowing. “I always wondered: why did my father give me the Rebellion?” Sure, it was so Dante had a means of protecting himself, but he always felt there was something else behind it.

Griffon flaps down until he’s level with Dante. “Okay, what are you muttering?”

Dante chuckles. “Over the years, I’ve been stabbed and jabbed by a number of things.” So, so many things. “But who would’ve ever guessed…” Without further ado, Dante flips the hilt and slams the blade into his gut. He stumbles back. Instinct urges him to take it out, but he refuses. He can’t.

“Have you lost your mind?! There’s a demon to destroy!” Griffon nervously hovers around him, bewildered at what he’s doing. “Kill yourself later! I’ll help!”

Dante’s all but keeled over. He hisses out a breath through his clenched teeth, fighting through the pain. “If the Yamato can separate man from devil… then what about the Rebellion?” Another shove, and then… something begins to happen.

The Rebellion glows before it’s absorbed into him. Dante feels it merging with his demonic half. The devil in him roars, the sound reverberating in his skull as his body also absorbs the Sparda. He draws in more and more power, his hands shaking from the effort. Something swells inside him. The process isn’t entirely pleasant, but Dante holds firm.

With a yell the power finally unleashes, energy bursting out of him and tearing through everything around him. Poor Griffon gets smacked straight into the wall. A flash of lightning illuminates his shadow on the far wall for just a split second, long enough for him to get a passing glance at himself. He looks down, and his body looks more demonic than ever. It’s so strange that merging the man and devil in him makes him look even more like a demon. But then again, maybe that’s not what this is. Maybe this is something else entirely. There’s a new kind of power flowing within him. Whatever it is, he desperately hopes that it’ll be enough.

He slowly straightens, sparing one last look at the destroyed painting. He can’t dwell here much longer. He unfurls his wings and rockets up through the ceiling.

From the air, it takes only a minute to get to where Vergil is. The ceiling opens up, the fleshy tentacle structures parting to reveal the inside. Dante hovers above it, out of sight. As he looks down, he sees tentacles reach out and grab someone. He has to move to get a better look at who it is-

Right then and there he damn near has a heart attack. Vergil’s got Nero.

Dante barely even registers what he’s doing before he’s already moving. He flies up, aiming himself right above those tentacles. Just as Nero screams, he hurls himself down at the ground, punching through the appendages and freeing Nero.

As his nephew goes bouncing across the ground, Dante hovers back up, staring down the would-be demon king.

“Who dares interfere?” Vergil demands.

Me, you three-eyed, unrepentant, demonic fuckwit.

And because Vergil is a one-trick pony, he launches more tentacles at him. Dante grabs them as they come within reach and he snaps them back, breaking off the ends and making Vergil stumble.

“What creature stands against a king?!”

Dante’s kind of baffled, honestly, because he thought Vergil would recognize him immediately. Something about this form is throwing him off, and he’s not sure how to feel about that… besides it being a little funny.

Nero struggles to his feet. “Is that a demon?” he asks himself, quietly enough that Dante almost doesn’t hear it. Huh… Even Nero doesn’t recognize him. Man, he needs to get in front of a mirror and take a look at himself, he thinks.

After a moment of confused staring from father and son, it’s the latter that puts it together first. “Wait. It can’t be? Dante, you son of a bitch…”

Hey, don’t talk about your grandmother like that.

“I knew you couldn’t be killed that easily!”

…okay that’s actually kind of sweet, and he appreciates the vote of confidence.

“Hey, he’s all yours.” Nero’s voice gets fainter. His panting becomes more labored, and he only manages one last quip before he faints: “But don’t let it become a habit.”

Ordinarily he’d crack a joke about Nero being dramatic, but… well, even he knows this isn’t the best time. He glances over, worried for a second about what to do with him. Fortunately, Griffon swoops in and grabs him with his talons. “Win, Dante, win!” he pleads before he actually makes himself useful and carries Nero out of the room.

Good. Nero’s safe. Now… He reaches out his hand. While the Sparda and the Rebellion are gone, something else replaced them. He feels it, in a way he can’t quite describe, but he knows it’s there. With just a thought, his new sword materializes in his hand. And maybe, just maybe he’s rubbing it in Vergil’s face a little as he summons telekinetic swords of his own, something that used to be unique to his brother.

Now it’s time to put his new tricks to good use and doubly murder his brother, for both times he laid a hand – and tentacle – on Nero.

Chapter Text

XXVII

Dante will argue to the end of his days that if he gotten to Vergil ten minutes sooner, the whole thing would have been over before lunchtime.

But he didn’t, and now he’s got to find the idiot all over again after he vanished in a waterfall of blood (which is just so damn gross). It takes about a half hour of searching before he finds the others. He’s immensely relieved to see Lady leaning against what he assumes is the Devil May Cry-mobile. Despite everything, a smile breaks out when their eyes meet.

Soon enough, Trish and V meander in. They helpfully explain that Vergil’s gone to the top of the Qliphoth… which is somehow at the bottom. That doesn’t make much sense but he doesn’t care. He knows where to find him, and falling is easier than climbing.

He’s interrupted from going straight after him by Nero’s friend, who introduces herself as Nicoletta Goldstein. The surname brings up a host of memories and guilt. The last Goldstein he knew was a friend from a different time in his life, and one whose death he’ll never forgive himself for.

Nico offers him a strange-looking hat. He takes it and eyes it up. It suddenly flips up and onto his head, and a red scarf appears around his neck. Now, anyone else would find it strange, or maybe a bit alarming. But Dante sees it as an opportunity to tap into that performing spirit of his and he proceeds to… honestly, it’s just something that needs to be seen to be appreciated.

Now that that’s out of his system, Dante stuffs the hat away before making another attempt to get the hell moving.

“Dante!”

…or not. He really hoped to scoot out of there before Nero caught him, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“I’m gonna go, too,” Nero says. And this is exactly what Dante was afraid of.

“Why don’t you sit this one out?” Please just go home and let me handle this.

“Oh, and let you call me dead weight again? No thanks.”

Geez, he had completely forgotten about that. Nero certainly didn’t, though. Before he can try and smooth that over, Nero adamantly continues, “I’ve got all the power I need, right here.” He lifts up his tricked out arm for emphasis. It’s impressive, really, and Dante’s glad he’s found something to replace the devil arm. But that is not why he wants Nero to stay out of this.

“You don’t understand. It’s not what I mean-”

The kinder he tries to be and the more he tries to dig himself out of this hole, the angrier Nero gets. The younger man grits his teeth and moves towards him, almost as if to get up in his face. An argument’s imminent.

“Let him go, Dante.” Both of them turn towards V, who’s back up on his feet and leaning heavily on his cane. “Time is a luxury that we can no longer afford. We must chase after him, post-hate.”

“What, does that mean you’re going, too?” That genuinely surprises Dante.

“I have a duty to see this through,” V says.

He does not understand why V has been so determined to insert himself into this, but he supposes he can’t pass up the help. “Well, that’s all you had to say, Mr. Poetry.” Dante points at them before backing up. “I’m gonna go my way and you guys can go yours. Let’s just say that’s the best for the cause.” With a wave and a smile, he quickly turns and leaps down the giant hole that (hopefully) leads towards the bottom.

He can’t argue with V’s logic; they need all hands on deck. And should shit really go south for Dante, Nero’s his only feasible back up. But just because Nero’s joining doesn’t mean he has to face his father again. Oh no. Not if Dante has anything to say about it.

He just has to beat them there. Get to the bottom, destroy Vergil, and then take back Yamato. And Nero will remain none the wiser.

XXVIII

The race to the bottom continues as the afternoon ticks on by. Dante takes an early lead and maintains it. He’s not sure what’s holding up Nero, but he’s not going to complain. Let him stay up there while he handles this latest family tragedy.

He glances up at the hole he just jumped through and shouts, “No hard feelings guys, but this is my gig!” He turns and adds quietly, “Trust me, Nero… this one’s gonna be a little too much for ya.”

It’s bad enough he has to kill his brother again. He will not pile this on Nero as well. The lie he has maintained to protect Nero faces a breaking point, but if he hurries, he can still save it. Nothing has to change after this. Sure, Nero will probably be pissed at him for a while, but Dante will figure out a way to make it up to him.

After passing through another round of demons, Dante gets ever closer to the bottom. As he lands on a ledge, he looks down and sees a field of ice. He must be getting close. And for the first time, he hesitates.

Make no mistake, he knows he needs to stop Vergil-the-Mundus-Wanna be (which he thought would be the last thing Vergil would ever want to imitate). But the reality of it hits him here. Vergil’s going to die… again (maybe again; did he actually die the first time?) He has to lose his brother… again. The last time that happened, he damn near broke. Maybe it won’t be so bad this time, considering that Vergil did all of this of his own free will, but… Yeah, it’ll probably result in another trip to the basement.

He snorts. His feelings regarding Vergil have always been a contradictory mess. He hates him and wants to kill him, but he also loves him and doesn’t want to lose him. That day in the Temen-ni-gru, he swore that he would stop his brother’s schemes for power, even if it meant killing him. He’s taken that oath to heart, because he knows it needs to be done. But it’s still his brother. He wishes things were different, that he didn’t have to kill him. Unfortunately, Vergil’s made that all but impossible. So whatever his feelings are, they can’t stop him from doing what needs to be done. It’s time to wrap this up.

With a shake of his head, he jumps.

Chapter Text

XXIX

He falls for a long while, and he wonders how far down this hole goes. Then, with unexpectedly little warning, he hits the ground. Dante pauses a moment as he takes in his surroundings. Around him is a familiar sight, though it’s not quite how it is, or even how it was back then. The idyllic countryside they’re in wasn’t quite this expansive. The house sat near the city’s borders, enough that they could walk to the local park. Still, many of the details are spot-on. And just yards away from the front gate to the twins’ childhood home stands Vergil, staring at a small, bloody tree from which hangs a single fruit.

“Vergil…” Dante straightens and walks towards him. He puts on his usual mask of jokes and quips as he says, “Hey, is that the damn fruit that you’ve been jabberin’ about? Doesn’t look so special to me.”

The demon says nothing.

Dante tries a different tact. “Yup, this is where it all started,” he says, motioning to the area around them. “That day that Mother saved me… and left you behind.” Or so Vergil always thought. It might not matter anymore, but Dante has to at least try and tell him the truth. “The thing you don’t know is, she tried to save you, too. She kept searching and searching… until it killed her.”

“I have no recollection of this tale, or this place.”

Dante supposes that tracks; those memories would have been cast off with everything else he shed.

“It’s all an illusion,” Vergil continues, “created by this extraordinary fruit. Its power, you see, is all I ever wanted.” He plucks the fruit from the tree. “And with this…”

“No,” Dante murmurs before he sprints towards him.

But it’s too late. “I will have everything!” With a sickening crunch, Vergil consumes the fruit.

Immediately the room begins to change. The sky darkens, and cracks form along the walls. As Vergil begins to shed off his armor, the tree disintegrates. It’s the point of no return.

“No, brother, you don’t have everything.” Dante shakes his head. Vergil will never get it. He’s never understood what he’s missed out on all his life. “That last shred of humanity that you still had? You just lost it.”

Vergil – no, he really is Urizen now, begins to walk towards him, his gait menacing. “That is nothing but the pitiful cries of those without strength. Come to me, brother…” The last of his armor falls, revealing Urizen in his true form. “I shall enlighten you, Dante!”

And so starts one hell of a fight.

Dante knew it wouldn’t be easy, but Urizen’s throwing so much at him that it’s taking Dante everything he has to stay ahead of him. They’re just about matched in terms of strength, so Dante relies on maneuverability and speed. Those, and being able to fly. Huge bonus.

“This is true power… The power I’ve sought for so long!” Urizen gloats as he sends rays of crackling energy at Dante.

“You’ve been chasing this for an eternity… and it’s nothing but useless shit!” That quest for power ruined everything, as far as Dante’s concerned. It’s the thing about Vergil he hates the most and the thing he really wants to kill.

Blow by blow, clash after clash, the two brothers have it out. And slowly but surely, Urizen begins to struggle. Dante’s hurting a fair bit as well, having taken his fair share of hits, but he’s using everything he’s got to keep powering through. He cannot and will not lose this fight.

“How… How do you have so much power?!” Urizen swings at him, following up with a series of blows and kicks that Dante barely dodges. “You never lost anything!”

That’s a steaming lying pile of shit, but Dante’s not about to get into a round of pity-me-olympics with him. “It’s not about loss. Strength is a choice. Fighting like hell to protect what’s important.” Nero. Lady. Trish. Morrison. Patty. Kyrie and the kids. All the others he’s met and befriended through the years. His shop and home. His favorite pizza place. They’re all part of the fragile happiness he’s managed to build, and like hell he’s going to let anyone take that away. “You threw away everything you ever had… No wonder you have no true power!”

Dante surges forward and lets loose a barrage of swings on Urizen. As the demon tries to counter, he brings out his devil form and lays into him with everything he’s got. He’s ending this here and now. Enough is enough.

His final strike sends Urizen stumbling back. He jumps at him, jamming his sword into the giant eye in Urizen’s chest. He pushes it in as far as he can before he finally leaps back. Blood spews from the wound. The giant falls, and lands with a powerful crash that shakes the ground.

Dante’s panting, but still standing. It’s just about finished. One last well-placed blow should finish Urizen off, and he can be done with this nightmare.

“Dante!”

Just in time. Dante shoulders his sword and looks over as Nero and V walk over. “You’re late. Just finishing up.”

“Is that really your brother?”

Dante barely refrains from shooting V a death glare. “I’m afraid so.”

“So he was behind all this.” Nero looks over at him in disbelief. “Your own flesh and blood.”

“Right again.” He smirks a bit, but he desperately wants to end this line of conversation. It skates too close to the truth for comfort.

It’s then that they finally notice V hobbling his way towards the dying demon. “In the last throes of defeat, I see.” V sounds almost… amused. Maybe even a little smug.

Urizen lifts his head. “You…”

Dante’s not sure what to make of it, but he hardly cares. He has to finish this. “V, get back! Things are about to get really messy.” He twirls his sword, readying it to strike Urizen down for good.

“No! Please…” V holds out a hand to stop Dante. “Let me. I want to end this battle… with my own hands.”

On the one hand, Dante considers that his job. Vergil’s his responsibility. But on the other… he respects the fact that V is the one who started this mission. Whatever his deal is, it seems important. He shrugs and hangs back. He doubts V will even be able to even manage it, but Dante will at least let him try.

V climbs onto Urizen until he’s standing on his chest. His cane digs into him as he puts nearly all his weight on it. “Do not struggle. For if you cannot even defeat me, then you’ve already lost.”

“I will not lose! Not to Dante.”

Dante laughs and shakes his head. Even in his last moments, he can’t let it go.

“Not to anyone. I need power! More power!”

“I know,” V says. “We are one and the same, you and I.”

Dante’s eyes narrow. Wait, what?

“But you’ve lost me, and I’ve lost you. Yet we are connected by that one feeling.”

Ever since V told him about Vergil, Dante had been wondering about something: what happened to his human side? V said it was gone and discarded, but did that mean it had disappeared… or had it, too, taken on its own form? But he’d been so caught up in just stopping Vergil, he hadn’t actually stopped to ask V. And now that he’s thinking on it, how did V know so much about Vergil? They’re all things he very much should have asked about, because now, as he watches V and Urizen, the truth dawns on him.

“‘While thy branches mix with mine, and our roots together join…’” V lifts up his cane, bladed end aimed straight at the wound Dante left in Urizen’s chest.

V is Vergil, too. Whether V was just playing him from the beginning or really did want to help, Dante doesn’t know and now it doesn’t matter. He realizes what V means to do. He’s not trying to end this battle. He wants to become whole again. Dante sprints as fast as he can, gunning for V and Urizen to stop this from happening. He wills himself to go faster, to get there before that cane swings down-

V lets out a cry of exertion before he pierces his cane into Urizen. Immediately a shockwave flies out in all directions, sending Dante and Nero sliding way back. A column of bright blue energy shoots into the ceiling, destroying the last of the illusionary world. The pieces begin to fall to the ground as the light finally fades. V and Urizen are gone.

In their place stands a restored Vergil.

Chapter Text

XXX

It’s been almost twenty-four years since Dante last saw his brother. No, he’s not counting Nelo Angelo. That wasn’t Vergil. That was just a puppet in his brother’s body. Vergil had died when Nelo Angelo came to be and when they fought for the last time on Mallet Island, Dante was simply finishing off the last vestiges of his ghost. The last time he truly saw his brother was when he fell into Hell. And ever since Mallet Island, he thought it would be the final time.

Needless to say, Dante’s feeling… a lot when he sees Vergil standing there. God, he hasn’t been in this much of an emotional upheaval since he first met Nero. Disbelief and shock come first, followed by a wave of fury. After all Vergil has done, and he just comes back, like he hasn’t been playing dead for the past fifteen years. Like Dante hasn’t mourned him for every single day in between. Like – like he can just show up and- okay, honestly, he doesn’t know what, but he’s pissed off all the same.

Yet, underneath all of it, the shock and the anger and the hatred, there’s a tiny spark of joy. His brother’s back. He has his brother again, and his family’s all here. Too bad Dante quashes that bit of joy with the realization that Vergil is standing in the same room as Nero and he has no idea what’s about to happen.

“What is this?” Nero stands agape at the stranger that appeared before him.

Dante’s grip on his sword tightens as he fights to keep his hands from shaking. There are tears threatening to break loose, and even through the rage in his voice, they’re slightly audible, “Vergil.”

His brother turns around, and Dante sees him in his entirety. He sees the lines of age in his face. He sees the same piercing blue-eyed gaze that so often leveled a glare at him.

But Vergil isn’t glaring this time. He glances back and forth between Nero and Dante, almost as if he doesn’t believe he’s seeing this. The momentary disbelief passes, and he looks… calm. He stands there, Yamato in hand, but he doesn’t move towards either of them. Rather, he takes note of the book of poetry laying on the ground. He bends down to pick it up and looks at it thoughtfully.

Now, one might hope that with Vergil being uncharacteristically non-combative, Dante might take a step back and handle this civilly. But that’s far from what happens. See, when the two brothers get within close proximity of each other, it’s like a switch flips in their brains. Rationale and levelheadedness go out the window and they go into this competitively hateful, all-or-nothing mindset. They always end up clashing as a result. It’s like they must fight.

Dante shakes his head. “Ya got some pretty big cojones for comin’ back.” He readies himself. “Just don’t know when to give up-” He charges at Vergil and leaps, meaning to bring his sword down on his head. “Do ya?”

Despite being distracted, Vergil’s more than ready for him. He knocks back Dante’s attack and then swiftly slams the butt of the sheathed Yamato into Dante’s gut. At the last moment Dante grabs the sheath and yanks it out before throwing it as hard as he can manage at Vergil. His brother slides back from the force of the throw. Dante barely manages to land on his feet.

Nero takes a step towards Vergil, but stops himself. The poor guy’s absolutely confused by what’s going on.

Dante runs past him, shouting at him to get out of his way (which he isn’t in his way to begin with so that bit is entirely unnecessary and rather mean). Vergil uses his not-quite-teleporting ability as Dante charges at him. The brothers’ swords clash and grind together as they push.

“Defeating you like this has no meaning.” Vergil’s voice: it’s been so long since Dante heard it, he’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.

He keeps glaring at him, focusing on the fight at hand and not on sentimental thoughts that’ll get him nowhere. “C’mon, Vergil. Let’s do this!” He wants to end this now.

But Vergil’s not having it. “Heal your wounds, Dante. Get strong. After that, we’ll settle the matter.” And to prove his point that Dante’s not in good shape at all, Vergil quickly ducks and takes Dante feet out from under him with Yamato’s sheath, before slamming the sword into him and sending him bouncing across the ground.

Nero looks back and forth between the two as Vergil turns and opens a rift with Yamato. Before he disappears into it, he stops and looks over his shoulder. “Thank you, Nero.”

Unsure of what he means, Nero just narrows his eyes.

Don’t you talk to him! Dante internally seethes as he gathers himself and tries to run after Vergil. But the portal closes before he even gets close. “Dammit!”

Now it’s just him and Nero. Suddenly Dante feels very, very nervous.

“If that’s your brother,” Nero says, walking up next to him, “then what happened to V?”

“He returned… to himself,” he explains. Okay, he definitely needs to elaborate more on that, but that’s for later.

Right now he really, absolutely, without a doubt must get out of there and go after Vergil. As he turns, though, he knows that Nero will want to go with. That’s not happening. It’s bad enough that Nero fought his father when he was Urizen. It’ll be even worse if he has to fight him as his true self. He can’t let that happen to Nero. He won’t. He’s his uncle, and he has a responsibility to protect him from this. “Go home, Nero. This doesn’t concern you.”

And he should have known that Nero isn’t going to just agree to that. Oh no, of course not. Because he’s his father’s son and therefore a stubborn git. “Like hell! I lost my right arm because of him!”

“This is not your fight.” Please drop this, Nero. Just for once, stop fighting me. “I need to stop him, and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m not gonna let you have all the fun, Dante!” His voice drips with sarcasm and even a bit of disdain.

Dante whirls on him. “You don’t get it.” I’m trying to spare you from all this. Why can’t you just-

Understand? But how can he? Dante hasn’t told him anything. He keeps expecting Nero to take his word and do as he says, but all he’s been telling him is to butt out.

“Lemme guess, I’m dead weight? You can shove that-”

Of course it hurts. Of course Nero’s upset. And he’s going to be, as long as Dante keeps shoving him away and keeping him from the truth.

“That’s not it, Nero.” He wishes he never said that, because none of this is about his skills or worth. But all his lies have made it out to be just that. For all that he’s been trying to not hurt Nero, he’s actually been doing the opposite.

“What is it, then?!”

His heart sinks with the realization: he cannot protect him from it anymore. If Nero refuses to back off, if he keeps trying to uncover the truth, then what choice does Dante have but to reveal it to him? Maybe it was always going to come down to this. Maybe in the back of Dante’s mind, he knew this was going to happen the moment Vergil reappeared. And maybe he needs to accept that Nero isn’t actually a kid and it’s time Dante stopped treating him like one. It’s going to turn his life upside down, but as Nero glares at him in anger and hurt, Dante knows he has no other choice. “He’s your father!”

Much like the illusionary world the Qliphoth fruit created, Dante’s carefully built world of lies comes crashing down into pieces around them. Five years of it, and it’s all undone with just three words.

Nero reels back, his expression torn between anger and disbelief. “What?!” He looks at him, teeth gritted, and there’s something in his eyes that begs Dante to tell him that he’s joking. He looks for the punchline, for the reassurance that this isn’t happening.

Dante just stares. The silence speaks for him.

His nephew looks down at the ground, almost distraught. There’s a low, murmured “No” as he shakes his head.

This isn’t how he wanted this to happen. Okay, yes, he didn’t want it to happen at all, but if he had to do it… this definitely isn’t how. There’s not much time, but Dante owes him at least a brief explanation. “I had the feeling, the first time I saw you, but I just wasn’t sure.” Hope and doubt warred within him back then. He swung back and forth between the two, wanting to believe but not quite letting himself accept it. “And then I saw how the Yamato reacted… and I was certain. He’s your father.”

Nero just keeps staring down at the ground, shaking his head. Dante’s never seen him this speechless. And he’s sorry. He’s so sorry for dumping this existential crisis on him. Sorry that his father turned out to be, well, Vergil. Sorry that he had to tell him like this. Sorry for damn near everything.

“Now, he needs an ass kicking…” Dante places a hand on Nero’s shoulder and squeezes. “But I can’t have you go kill your old man.” Now at least Nero understands why Dante has been trying to keep him out of this mess. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he claps his shoulder once more before leaving. When it’s over, they’re going to have a much longer conversation about all of this. It’s the least he can do. And if Nero wants to beat him into a pulp, he’ll let him. He kind of deserves it.

For now, though, he has a bloody appointment with his brother to keep.

XXXI

V’s familiars – freed from their bond – fought Dante with everything they had. In the end, they lost, but Dante suspects it was never about winning. It was about doing what they could for Vergil in a final act of atonement for the years of nightmares he suffered. It stirs something within him, but he shoves it aside.

Dante looks towards the top (or, by this weird tree’s logic, bottom) of the Qliphoth. Somewhere up there Vergil waits. That’s where Dante heads, hopping up the last footholds of the tree until he reaches his brother.

Vergil’s chosen a good place. The area is flat and wide, a circular arena for what may very well be their last fight. On the far end he sits on a tree-looking thing, waiting for Dante.

“Hey Vergil,” Dante says as he approaches him, holding out his hand. “your portal-opening days are over. Give me the Yamato.”

“If you want it, then you’ll have to take it.” Vergil stands, the tree-chair disintegrating in his wake. He turns to his brother and smirks. “But you already knew that.”

Yes, yes he did. “I had a feeling you’d say that.” Dante summons his sword. It flashes a hellish fiery red as it appears, forming in his hand. At least he can say he tried to give Vergil an easy way out.

“How many times have we fought?” Vergil muses.

“Hard to say,” Dante answers as he shoulders his sword for a moment, allowing himself a moment to indulge in Vergil’s trip down memory lane. “It’s the only memory I have of us since we were kids.”

Then… there’s a smirk. Almost a smile, one they both share. One that’s rather hard to understand to anyone else. How they delight in clashing like this, over and over, only they seem to understand.

Whatever that feeling is, it passes as Dante swings down his word. “Time to finish this, Vergil. Once and for all.”

Vergil pops out Yamato and unsheathes it. “I won’t lose to the likes of you, little brother.”

This battle plays out much like their past battles have: Dante hurls himself at Vergil, and he usually manages to deflect him. Vergil strikes with deadly precision and accuracy, while Dante takes whatever shots he can until he manages to break through his defenses and pummels him. Vergil even manages to impale Dante on Yamato.

“Just like old times,” he says with a smile as he yanks Yamato out.

But the brothers have aged and much has changed in the years since they last met. They’ve both got some new tricks up their sleeve and have gained a tremendous amount of power since they last clashed in the Temen-ni-gru. Dante’s long since learned not to bother shooting at Vergil (though he does manage to blast him with the new Kalina Ann once, which is just hilariously satisfying). Vergil’s gotten better at breaking out from Dante’s all out assaults, though still not without taking his share of licks.

Then, of course, there are their new devil forms.

Dante’s mouth drops a little as Vergil brings out his. How the hell is THAT fair? he complains as he brings out his own. Whatever, it’ll make the fight more interesting at least. His wings unfurl before he flaps them down hard to send himself flying at Vergil. They crash together violently, the force of the impact almost knocking them back. In these forms, their clashes go from powerful to nearly ground-shaking. They swipe and swing and cut and bleed, each one trying to one up the other in what’s yet another – and as far as they’re concerned final – verse in the long song of their rivalry.

Under the all too familiar conflict and begrudging acknowledgment of Vergil’s capability, there’s a knot of anger forming in Dante’s chest. It’s not quite the same anger he usually carries against Vergil. Given that he barely has a chance to misstep around Vergil, let alone get some thinking in, it takes quite a while for the anger to take shape.

When it does, it resembles Nero.

Vergil’s as powerful as ever, and Dante would normally respect that power. But he doesn’t this time, because he knows how he got that power. Vergil maimed his son to get it. Not that he knows that…

Dante slides back after parrying an attack from Vergil. They’ve both released their devil forms, too tired to hold onto them for the time being. Vergil twirls Yamato, preparing for another strike.

Nero knows about Vergil. So it might as well go both ways. Besides, if this is to be Vergil’s end, he should know the truth before it’s over. “You cut off your own son’s arm for this?”

Vergil doesn’t even flinch. He just not-quite-teleports and slashes Yamato at Dante, nicking him in the shoulder before Dante can get his sword up to block. “My son means nothing to me!”

There goes what little regard Dante had for Vergil right out the window. Screw you, you don’t deserve him anyway. He yells and quickly summons Cerberus, catching Vergil off guard by lashing out with it and hooking his right ankle. He yanks the weapon hard, forcing Vergil to stumble to catch himself. He quickly lashes out with his sword, sending his brother careening across the arena. This time, Vergil looks a bit worse for wear from that blow. Dante runs up to him, trying to take advantage of the new opening.

But Vergil’s prepared. He not-technically-teleports and steps around Dante just as he slows to strike him. He slams Yamato against him. Dante barely manages to block the blow with his sword, but it’s still not enough to prevent him from flying back and colliding against one of the pillars at the edge of the arena.

He lands on his stomach, grunting and wincing as he struggles to stand. A long day of battles has left him more than a bit winded. As he looks up, he sees Vergil kneeling; he’s not much better off. Strangely, though, Vergil also seems a bit… confused. The gears turn in his head, and Dante waits for a moment as Vergil struggles with whatever’s on his mind.

Finally, Vergil aims a disbelieving stare at Dante. “Nero… is my son?”

If he was in a better position, Dante would be facepalming. It seems Vergil hadn’t quite thought through his initial response to the news. Dante’s not sure if it’s because he was trying to act tough or because he just automatically responds to anything Dante says to him with disdain, regardless of what he’s actually telling him. Neither would surprise him. And you call me an idiot. “Yeah, dumbass,” he says as he gingerly gets to his feet. “You can’t remember through that thick skull of yours?”

Vergil’s confusion lingers a moment as he stands and, seemingly, tries to remember. Then something replaces that confusion, and for just the briefest moment, Dante swears he sees something like sadness cross his brother’s face. It’s gone before he pins it. “Well, well… That was a long time ago.”

No shit, Sherlock. Your son’s a grown man. Dante laughs a little. “I guess you were young once, too.”  Vergil slowly assumes a battle stance, and Dante begins to do the same. “As much as I’d love to hear that story,” And he really, really does, “I think it’s about time we…”

“Ended this,” Vergil finishes, fully assuming his pose. It’s some fancy fighting pose that Dante suspects he learned when he was learning all the other fancy shit he does with Yamato.

For his part, Dante just widens his stance, transforming into his new devil form. Vergil does the same. They stare each other down for a long moment, both readying themselves and taking in one another before the other dies.

With simultaneous roars, they charge at each other, hurtling towards the middle of the arena at considerable velocity. They pull back their swords, ready to strike each other down-

A flash of bright blue light comes in between them, then there’s something that sounds like an explosion, and Dante’s suddenly at a standstill. So is Vergil. Four arms have stopped the brothers dead in their tracks.

Vergil frowns. “This is… curious.”

As the light fades and the dust settles, Dante looks at a demon he’s never seen before but deep down knows perfectly well who it is.

“Nero?”

Chapter Text

XXXII

Nero shoves them, sending his father and uncle soaring back before they slide to a painful halt on the ground. Dante groans, and Vergil’s sounding just as pained when he says, “What form of power is this?”

“What the hell?” Dante echoes.

He knows what he’s seeing is Nero’s devil form. That much is obvious and he’s… quite proud, honestly. Like, everyone thought this kid’s devil-powered days were over when his arm got popped off, but Nero managed to tap into that devil within and bring it out properly, without the help of the Yamato.

That’s not what’s confusing him or Vergil. It’s the two spectral limbs on Nero’s back that’s really throwing them for a loop. That and, Holy shit, he grew his arm back, too?!

Nero returns to his human form, but the spectral arms remain. “This ends, right here.” He looks straight ahead, but he’s addressing both his family members.

Okay, sure, Nero’s got his devil form and his old arm back plus two additional arms (maybe the universe threw those in as an apology), but that does not mean he can come and butt into this. This battle has been coming for a long time, and Dante needs to see this through. Whatever Nero’s intentions are, he does not want him mixed up in this. “Listen to me,” he seethes as he walks towards Nero. “I told you already, this is not your-”

But Nero’s not having it anymore. One of those arms lashes out, quicker than Dante can react, and the next thing he knows, he’s toppling to the ground, jaw broken and several teeth missing. He’d bitch about it, but honestly he can’t even talk right now.

“You listen, dead weight-”

GODDAMN IT I AM NEVER USING THAT WORD AGAIN-

“I won’t let you kill each other. There are other ways of settling your differences.” Now he turns towards his father, fist gripped tightly as he slowly approaches him. “I’m putting a stop to this sibling rivalry.”

Vergil laughs. “Ahh, you came all this way just for that.”

Do not underestimate how far this kid is willing to go when he’s set on something, Dante wants to say, but his jaw still has a bit more healing to do. Besides, his brother’s about to find out the hard way and that’s vastly more entertaining.

“Vergil… V… whatever you call yourself, Dante’s not going to die here and neither are you. Do you have a problem with that?” His tone’s challenging, and it’s clear that he’s not here to listen to any arguments to the contrary.

Dante finally manages to sit up, clutching his throbbing cheek. “‘Not gonna die,’ my ass. That bitch slap nearly killed me.”

Vergil’s quiet for just a moment before he swings Yamato into his other hand. “If I beat Nero…”

Are you fucking kidding me right now-

“Then by default, I beat you. Agreed, Dante?”

Of course Vergil’s going to fight his son. Because the chucklefuck is incapable of communicating in any other way besides violence. Dante knows that he should probably say no damn way, but… You know what. If Nero really wants to insert himself into this, I’ll let him. I haven’t been able to stop him from the start and obviously that’s not changing. “Whatever. I don’t really care.” Yes he does. He absolutely does. But he’s so damn exhausted he can barely keep himself upright. “I’m just gonna sit this one out.” He falls back onto the ground. Let father and son have it out. He’ll step in if Vergil goes overboard and Nero’s seriously in danger, but otherwise he’s butting out.

There’s a heavy moment of silence as his brother and nephew stare each other down. He can’t see Nero’s expression, but Dante can certainly picture it as he takes a step towards Vergil. “When this is over, I’ll make you submit…” Those spectral arms lift up, and the hands crack their knuckles, preparing for a pummeling. “Father.”

Oh boy. Dante shifts himself so he can see them better. He needs to keep an eye on this battle but also, he really wants to see Nero whoop Vergil’s ass. Now, if Vergil were in top form, that wouldn’t happen, but Dante’s worn him down enough that Nero stands a chance of winning. And Dante wants to see that happen so badly.

When he looks over at Vergil, expecting him to go into a battle stance, he instead sees hesitation. Vergil looks uneasy, and that’s not something Dante’s ever really seen in his brother. He frowns as Vergil slowly circles back a bit, suddenly uncertain about this battle that he initiated.

…don’t tell me this is another moment of ‘I did not think this through before I opened my big, dumb mouth’. Nero swings out his sword, and Vergil visibly stiffens. Why yes, I think it is.

“Stand down,” Vergil says softly. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Where was that sentiment a minute ago you fuckin-

“Nothing to do with me?!” Nero shouts. “It has everything to do with me!”

“Nero…”

“FUCK YOU!” And in true Nero fashion, he flips off his father as he transforms into his devil form. With a roar he charges at him, and Vergil’s forced on the defensive. Whether Vergil likes it or not, they’re fighting now.

That leaves Dante with nothing to do but to watch… and think.

What first strikes him is how wrong he was about Nero. He just assumed that he’d want to kill Vergil even after learning the truth. He didn’t want him to bear that burden. He – and everyone else – thought that Nero’s quest for vengeance would supersede everything. But they were all wrong. Nero cast that aside the moment he learned the truth, as hard as it must have been, and instead chose to fight for his family. Even if it meant fighting against that same family.

Just like his uncle. The irony’s not lost on Dante.

Swords clash against each other in the background. Dante dares a glance at them, just in time to see Nero impaled by Yamato. He moves to roll over so he can stand, but just as he tries, Nero rips the Yamato out and snaps, “Oh hell no” before jamming it right back into his father’s chest.

Dante laughs. Damn he is proud of that kid. Too bad Vergil doesn’t appreciate that. But then again, he’s being a little unfair. Vergil hasn’t known Nero for long at all. Suddenly learning this cocky, smart-mouthed punk is his son left him reeling, no doubt. At least he has V’s memories of him. Maybe in time, he’ll come to have his own. That’s overly optimistic. Vergil’ll just fuck off somewhere after this. He doesn’t-

Want to be in his life, he almost thinks, but he pauses. He’s being really unfair here. Vergil and Nero might be fighting, but he remembers Vergil’s hesitation and the way he tried to get Nero to back down. He remembers how Vergil reacted to the news that he had a son. Sure, he was shocked, but he wasn’t angry. He didn’t reject Nero’s existence. He didn’t say he wanted nothing to do with him. They’re all just things Dante automatically attributes to him because that’s what he’s always done with Vergil, and Vergil’s done the same with him. Maybe that’s part of the reason their relationship is the way it is. Hell, that’s probably a very big part of the reason.

Dante blows out a breath as he looks skyward. What do I do? Now that the truth he’s been hiding for so long has come to light, he’s not sure how to proceed. He put so much time and thought into maintaining the lie that he never considered what would come if and when the truth came out. He certainly didn’t ever imagine Vergil being in the picture. A part of him rankles at the thought of Vergil slipping back into his life, and into Nero’s life. That decades old rivalry and animosity colors his thoughts and makes him want to keep Vergil out. He’d argue that he’s a walking disaster, that he never gave any regard to family before and why would he now? He’d say that he thinks only of himself and that his eternal quest for power leaves no room for a son, that Nero deserves better-

…but it’s not his call. It’s Nero’s.

“You feeling accepting yet?” Nero says to his father as he parries a blow.

Vergil hops back, preparing a defensive stance as Nero charges towards him. “Of your existence? Or your strength?”

“Both, you fuckin’ asshole!” And to punctuate his point, Nero grabs Vergil with those spectral arms and overhead tosses him onto the ground.

Underneath the punkish bravado, there’s something almost pleading in Nero’s voice. He has a family now, and he wants to be a part of it. And if he wants his father and his uncle in his life, together, then Dante must accept that. However... that’s going to be a lot to swallow. The only way he can accept that, to be able to accept it, is to let go of all his anger, his hatred, his sorrow and this seemingly never-ending conflict with Vergil. How the hell do I let all of that go?

A memory comes to him. He’s seven, and like all kids do, he laments at being a kid and says how he can’t wait to be a grown-up. His mother listens to him, smiling as she brushes some hair from his face. And then she says something that Dante didn’t understand at the time:

“There’s no such thing as a grown-up.”

Little Dante balks at it. “But you’re a grown-up, Mom.”

“I’m an adult, not a grown-up.” She gestures him to come closer, like she’s about to reveal a huge secret to him. And in a way, she is. “There’s never a time in your life where you’ll be grown up, because you’re always going to be growing up. Even when you’re an adult, you never stop growing up. It’s a process. Most of it happens bit by bit, so little you don’t even notice. Every once in a while, a moment will come where you’ll have to do a lot of it at once. It’ll probably be hard, but don’t be scared of it. They’re a big part in what shapes you as a person.”

And it’s now, laying on top of this demon tree with his brother and nephew having at it, that Dante comprehends what his mother meant. This is one of those moments she was talking about. He has to grow up. He has to let go of this grudge match with Vergil. It’s been a part of his life for so long that he’s almost scared of what it’ll be like without it.

But the days of Dante and Vergil’s rivalry being just about the two of them are over. “Nothing to do with me?! It has everything to do with me!” Nero had shouted those words at Vergil just minutes earlier, and that really sums it up. Dante tried to keep Nero out, claiming it wasn’t his fight or his burden, but it is. When he revealed the truth to Nero, he made it his. They are his family and he has as much of a stake in what goes on between the brothers as they do. He cannot have his family as long as this rivalry between Vergil and Dante exists. They have to pick between their feud and Nero. Dante knows what his choice will be. He just hopes that Vergil will pick the same.

His brother suddenly slides to a stop just a few feet away from him, kneeling down as he struggles to keep his face from planting into the ground. Dante looks over, and Vergil blows out a breath. “Interesting…”

Dante grins. Nero won. Good job, kid. He starts laughing, pushing himself up to point at Vergil. “Oh, brother. You cut off your own son’s arm for more power, and you still lost.” …okay yes he’s growing up, but that doesn’t mean he has to be mature about it.

“Enough, dammit!” Nero snaps. “The underworld is taking over, and we need to do something before it’s too late.”

Shit. That never even occurred to him while he was thinking his thinky thoughts on the ground. Somehow they need to get this tree cut down and the portal closed off. But in order to do that…

Dante closes his eyes as the tree shakes, growing ever more and expanding out into the ruined city. He knows exactly what’s going to happen next. Vergil has the Yamato. He’s the only one who can close that portal. And that means Vergil must return to the underworld. He’ll take another dive into that hellish place and be trapped down there for God only knows how long. It’s no surprise Dante’s immediately taken back to the Temen-ni-gru, and the feelings from that day resurface in force. Just when he began to open himself up to reconciling with his brother, he now has to-

…no. Not this time. Dante reaches for his sword. He doesn’t have to stay behind this time, he realizes. Because this time, he knows better. This time the world has another devil hunter to keep it safe. This time is going to be different. This time, he’s going with Vergil. If they’re going to reconcile, then it’ll start with this. Dante’s going to keep him safe from whatever is down there and, more importantly, from himself. “He’s right,” he says. “We need to close that portal.” He watches Vergil struggle to regain his footing. “Hey, you lost so you better do as he says.”

Vergil groans as he straightens up, blowing out another breath. “I can still fight.”

Nero stares him down, and Dante very seriously considers taking Vergil by the shoulders and shaking him, because why the hell is he more concerned with that than-

“But if those roots continue to spread through town, it’ll just interfere with our business,” he adds as he sheathes Yamato.

“Now that’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Dante grunts as he stands. The brothers begin walking towards the edge of the area. “Better hurry up… We still got a score to settle,” Dante semi-jokes. He does want to finish their fight, but not in the same way he intended to end it when he first went after Vergil.

“Evidently.”

Nero watches them walk by him in bewilderment. “Wait,” he shouts after them, “where are you going?”

And this is the one reason that makes Dante regret having to go with Vergil. It means leaving Nero behind. He really did not want to dump all the family drama on him and bolt, but he needs to do this. He cannot leave Vergil alone again. His brother needs him more than Nero needs him, and someday he hopes Nero will come to understand why.

Vergil turns to Nero and explains, “We need to sever the Qliphoth roots from the underworld itself. Then, we’ll seal the portal with the Yamato.”

The look of worry and near panic on Nero’s face kicks Dante straight in the heart. “Hang on, if you do that, you can’t come back.”

“Why do you think I’m goin’? Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on your old man.” And he shoots Vergil a very specific look of Do not argue with me on this because I am absolutely right.

To his surprise, Vergil does not, in fact, argue with him.

The brothers resume walking, but Dante expects the next round of protests from Nero. And they’re even more gut wrenching as Nero snaps, “You can’t just expect me to stay here while you both go-” He means to follow, but that can’t happen. It really can’t. Not just because Dante doesn’t want him to, but because the world can’t afford him to.

Dante turns and quickly cuts him off with, “It’s because you’re here that we can go.” His tone softens as he puts a hand on Nero’s shoulder. Please stop giving me the kicked puppy look, I already feel like shit enough. “We’re trusting you with things on this side, capisce?” And he realizes that this is the first real moment he’s had with Nero where he gets to be his uncle. Not in secret, but openly. And it flippin’ sucks that this will be the last for probably a while.

“Make haste, Dante,” Vergil calls out from up ahead.

Dante sighs before turning back towards his brother. “Yeah, I know.” One of us needs to give the kid a proper good-bye, you jackhammer. He pauses mentally. …need to be nicer. He’s new to this…

Somehow he’s not all that surprised to hear Nero coming after them again. “Hey, wait!” So damn stubborn.

Now, the brothers are twins but rarely do they have what one might call a twin moment. But as Nero sprints after them, determined to force them yet again, the brothers decide enough is enough. At once they turn and backhand Nero. Dante mostly does it out of revenge for the earlier bitchslap. He’s sure Vergil did it mostly to get Nero to back off. It’s a perfectly synchronized moment that sends Nero skidding several yards away.

Nero immediately sits up and glares at them, indignant and more than little ticked off.

Welcome to the family, kid. Dante smiles as he takes in the sight of Nero, preserving it to memory. Who knows who long it’ll be before they see each other again? “Take care, Nero. Adios.”

He leaves father and son to whatever good-bye they will have. Dante plunges down towards the portal to the underworld. Admittedly, he’s not thrilled at the prospect of being trapped down there again. But he got handed something that most people wish for and few ever get: a second chance. And he’s not going to waste it.

Chapter Text

XXXIII

“So, all we gotta do is cut this thing down?” Dante feels like it’s too easy. It’s never that easy.

“That’s right.” Vergil and Dante walk towards the base of the Qliphoth, side by side. Vergil pauses.  Dante turns and looks as his brother stares up at the tree. More specifically, he's determinedly not looking at Dante. “I’m more than capable of handling this on my own.”

Dante gives him a look that reads, Nice try. “You’re gonna need some help… And someone to keep an eye on you.” Here comes the argument he’s been waiting for. But he’s not going to back down, no way. Vergil can just-

He nods and starts to move again.

…not argue. Dante almost balks. That might be the fastest he’s ever convinced Vergil of anything. Though perhaps Vergil didn’t really need much convincing to begin with. Maybe he was just offering Dante a way out before it’s too late. And maybe, just maybe, he actually wants Dante here with him. Which, if true, Dante’s not quite sure what to do with that. For better or worse, Qliphoth roots interrupt the moment. Demons are sure to follow soon.

Now the brothers fight alongside each other, not against each other. Of course, they turn it into a little competition to see who can kill the most. Dante wins, but only barely.

They push through towards the Qliphoth’s base. When they reach it at last, they draw out their swords. They look up and towards the bright sky overhead. It’ll be the last time they’ll see it for months, if not longer.

It’s not easy, but Dante knows he’s where he needs to be. He’s spent the last twenty-four years regretting letting Vergil go to the underworld alone. This doesn’t change that moment, but maybe he’ll finally be at peace with it after this.

He glances at Vergil. “Ready?”

Vergil nods. “Let’s finish this.”

XXXIV

There’s not much to do in the underworld. Entertainment takes no other form but fighting down there. Until the demonic denizens figure out how to run a cable company, that’s not changing anytime soon.

So, surprise surprise, the brothers keep themselves busy by battling each other. It’s not really fighting, more like sparring. It’s typical of them really, but again, what else are they going to do down there?

One might say, “Oh I don’t know, maybe they could be slicing open a way out with Yamato?” It needs to be clarified that it’s not that simple. See, Yamato can slice through reality, it’s true, but it’s a much trickier thing slicing between two different planes. For all of Vergil’s power, even he can’t easily rip open a portal from the underworld into the human world. The only possible way to do it is if they can find a very thin point between the two worlds and maybe then he can open one. But finding such a spot is like finding a needle in a haystack. They do plan on trying to find one such spot, for all that it might be futile. But for the time being, they’re keeping busy with sparring and “settling the score” without really settling it.

Dante launches a Stinger at Vergil, knocking him back and with it, bringing him to his knees. Dante laughs in triumph. “Score for Dante! I’m up one!”

“Where did you learn to count?!” Vergil jabs a finger at him. “We’re even.”

Dante almost argues it, but as he quickly recounts, he realizes that Vergil is right. He sighs as he plops down onto the ground. “You know… I’m starting to think this is never gonna end,” he jokes.

“Maybe.” Vergil looks around them. Dark stalks from the remnants of the Qliphoth jut out from the ground. The landscape is rugged and empty, and not at all pretty. He smiles. “We got plenty of time.”

Dante laughs and rolls his eyes. He’s not entirely wrong, though not entirely right, either. They should not stay down here forever. They’ve got lives to lead and things to do upstairs. Or at least, he does. Honestly, he doesn’t know what Vergil will do if and when they get back to the human world. It’s a conversation he’s not quite ready to have.

For now, he’s content with sparring with his brother. Sure, it’s not ideal, but at least they’re alive and Dante can keep Vergil out of trouble. His twin clearly needs 24/7 supervision, if the last twenty-four years are any indication. He’s sure Vergil begs to differ, but he lost all rights to such when he leveled an entire city.

As he stands to challenge Vergil to Round Fuck-Knows-What, demons pop out around them. The twins are forced to turn their attention to the intruders, rather than their latest round of brotherly sparring. This is not the first time their fighting has gotten interrupted, and they both know it won’t be the last.

In fact, after a while, the demons begin attacking more frequently. With their sparring constantly being interrupted and the demons more determined in their assaults, the brothers decide it’s time to move. To where proves a tricky question. Nowhere is exactly safe in the underworld, not for the sons of Sparda. At least there’s no demon emperor looming in the background this time, or any considerable threat that they know of. Dante hopes that remains the case for their duration down there.

He winces as his back spasms briefly. His body is not happy, and his stomach growls a little. He’s fine without eating, but he misses food all the same. “It was a lot easier the last time I was trapped down here,” he complains as they trudge through the current section of Hell they’re in. “I don’t remember aching this much.”

Vergil slides him a side-eyed look. “We were fighting quite a lot, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“No shit, but I’ve fought for as long as that before and it didn’t hurt nearly as much.”

“You’re clearly out of shape.”

“More like getting old.” Dante pops his neck and grimaces. “Let’s face it, we’ve both slowed down a bit.”

Vergil makes a resigned sound. “It has been getting slightly harder to recover as quickly. The demonic blood within us can only do so much, it seems.”

“The joys of humanity.” Dante’s fine with it, honestly. He doesn’t want to live as long as demons do. “Good thing I’ve got younger back-up.” They haven’t spoken about Nero much since they left. Dante hasn’t wanted to push it too much with Vergil, and Vergil hasn’t seemed willing to bring him up. Or maybe he just doesn’t know how. It’s hard to tell with him.

“Is he officially part of your business?”

“Yep. He has – you’ve seen it as V. The big-ass van? I gave him the signs, but the rest of that is all him. And Nico, I guess.” The Devil May Cry-mobile will likely see a lot more action now that Dante’s stuck in the underworld and Nero has to take on more of the workload.

Vergil nods. “I recall. That woman drove it like a maniac. They’re fortunate it’s built quite strongly.” There’s a small pause, and then he asks, “Has he… been in your business long?”

“He’s been demon hunting for years, even before I met him, I think.” Dante’s not entirely certain what all Nero did in the Order, but given how easily he fought the demons back then, he suspects he had dealt with them plenty before Dante crashed into his life. “But in Devil May Cry? Almost two. He takes the jobs near his neck of the woods. Spares me from having to travel so much.”

“I see.”

“And if I croak down here, he inherits the whole she-bang.” Dante rubs the back of his neck. “Which I just remembered I never actually told him about that. Oops.”

“How do you forget to tell someone they’re an inheritor of an entire business?!”

“It never came up!” Dante argues. “Besides, I didn’t want him to feel weird about it. To him it would have just looked like a guy he’d only known for a few years passing down his entire life’s work. It’s hard being an uncle without acting like one.”

“He truly had no idea,” Vergil says. Or asks. It sounds like a question and a statement at the same time.

“Nope. And I’m going to catch hell for it when I see him next, I’m sure.” He’s not entirely looking forward to that. “Now, we need to find a spot to crash. Preferably with a nicer view than ‘desolate hellish landscape’.”

“I’ll be sure to find us a Hilton with an ocean view. Just for you, little brother,” Vergil replies dryly.

Dante laughs.

XXXV

In a particularly hilly part of the underworld, the brothers come across a sharp hill that tapers off just before a large ravine. Dante’s face lights up. “Holy shit, look at that ramp!”

Vergil gives him a deadpan look. “And just what are you going to do with a ramp?”

“Jump it. Duh.”

“With what, exactly?”

“With – oh. You haven’t seen it yet, have you?” Dante didn’t bother using Cavaliere against Vergil during any of their fights. It’s too slow against him. Dante rubs his hands together as he steps away. “Get a load of this.”

He swears he hears Vergil mutter “Oh Christ”, but he can’t be sure.

Dante summons Cavaliere and it appears in his hands in its dual buzz saw form. He spins the ends and slams them together; electricity dances along them until Cavaliere reforms as a motorcycle. Dante grins as he pats the vehicle. “Ain’t it a beaut?”

Vergil faceplams. “Of course you have a motorcycle as a weapon. How did you even – nevermind.”

“It’s fast, sleek, and damn good at running over demons. And it’s absolutely going to be my stunt vehicle as I do some killer flips off that ramp.” Dante mounts the bike, revving it as he laughs in delight.

He’s sure Vergil’s about to say something condescending, so before he can Dante throttles the engine and takes off, zipping at a ridiculous speed towards the ramp. He doesn’t care that this isn’t a particularly good idea. Being down here at all isn’t a particularly good idea, so he might as well have fun while he’s at it.

He guns the bike hard as he hits the ramp, his stomach rolling in anticipation as he nears the top. He’s airborne just a second later, his laughter and shouting echoing around him as he soars over the ravine. He flips, cackling like a madman as he goes upside down once, then twice. He goes for another one, but as he begins circling back, he realizes that for all his velocity, he’s not quite going to clear the ravine.

Oh fu-

He twists and tries to aim the bike so it catches the edge. The tires hit it, but not enough to clear it. The bike teeters and falls over, sending it and Dante careening down the side of the ravine. He lets out a colorful stream of swears as he bangs his way down the cliff’s jagged rock face like a half-demonic Plinko piece. He finally lands at the bottom with a loud crash.

“I’m okay!” he shouts. Which he kind of is, if you ignore the fact that his back is probably broken in two different places and his arm’s bending the wrong way. Thank goodness for that healing factor.

As he rights himself while limiting his movements as much as possible, he spies Vergil staring down at him from above the ridge. “Are you completely incapable of restraining yourself from such childish impulses?”

“As incapable as you are of using a condom!” Despite the pain, he howls in laughter as Vergil’s face reddens and then contorts into a look that would absolutely annihilate Dante on the spot if it could. “There’s five more years’ worth where that came from!” he adds with more cackling.

“I really am in Hell,” Vergil groans.

XXXVI

Dante’s never seen this part of the underworld. The sky is dark, and strangely there are pieces of stone debris that float in the sky, hanging above the ones jutting out from the ground. Much of it looks like broken off pieces of columns, graves, and statues. The ground’s covered in a thin layer of water – or is it blood? Dante can’t quite tell. It’s red and almost looks like blood, but it has a consistency closer to water. Whatever this place is, he doesn’t like it. It makes him horribly uneasy and he can’t place why.

He stops when he realizes Vergil’s no longer walking beside him. Panicking for just a moment, he turns until he finds him standing still a few yards back. “Vergil?”

He doesn’t answer.

Dante strides quickly towards him. As he nears, he notices Vergil’s almost glassy-eyed look and his white-knuckled grip on the Yamato. “Hey, Vergil. Look at me.”

Vergil blinks and the look is gone. He seems back to normal, if perhaps a bit paler than usual. “Yes?”

Dante scans his face, trying to find any hint as to what the heck just happened. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Let’s just-”

Dante puts a hand against his shoulder. “What is this place?”

His brother looks towards a spot in the sky. There's nothing there now, but Dante suspects that somewhere in Vergil’s memory, he’s seeing something. For a long moment, Vergil says nothing. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Dante just watches him, unsure as to what to say or do. This is not like Vergil.

Then, so quietly Dante almost doesn’t hear it, Vergil says, “I fell here.”

…shit. Dante knows exactly what he’s referring to. He lets out a shaky breath, looking at where Vergil keeps staring. He can picture those red eyes staring down at them, crackling with energy and ill intent. “And this is where he found you?”

Vergil barely manages a nod.

“No wonder this place is giving me indigestion. I should have recognized his shitty décor.” Dante looks around them. The area seems to be empty, and he’s certain they’d be able to sense Mundus if he were here. All the same, he’s not risking sticking around. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They move again, Vergil silent and Dante on guard as they weave around the debris scattered over the water. If Vergil notices Dante standing just a little bit closer and his joking just a little more forced, he says nothing about it.

Chapter Text

XXXVII

Eventually they leave that part of the underworld. They couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Dante’s relieved to see Vergil relax again and return to his normal self.

They come across the forest hell which, while it’s as dangerous as the rest of the underworld, is at least something new to look at. It also gives them new demons to fight. Dante hoots and hollers as he bounces between the trees, knocking the demons around and generally having a good time.

The result is usually something like this: Vergil sighs and makes a condescending remark about Dante’s childishness, Dante throws yet another joke about inefficient condom use at him, which leads Vergil to try and stab him, and Dante dodges and laughs. Rinse and repeat.

After traveling for what’s probably a few days, the brothers agree that they need to find a place to crash for a bit. Getting too weary in the underworld can be lethal. After a long search, Vergil catches sight of a cave hollowed out in the side of a cliff that lines the edge of the forest. He almost missed it, as its entrance is covered by vines. It’s high up and secluded enough that they shouldn’t garner a lot of attention.

Once they determine the vines aren’t poisonous or demonic, the brothers settle into the cave. Dante kicks off his boots and socks, letting his feet air out. Vergil decidedly sits on the other side to avoid the smell. Their swords are laid at their sides, and the brothers rest in silence. At least for a little while.

In the still quiet, Dante wrestles yet again with how to ask Vergil something he’s been dying to know about: Nero’s mother. For the last five years, he’s lamented that he would never learn about this woman. But now that Vergil’s back, he finally has the opportunity to find out. It’s just how to bring up the subject…

Dante finally decides fuck it on finding a tactful approach and begins with, “Sooo…”

Vergil makes a noncommittal noise of acknowledgment.

“Who was she?”

The silence grows tense as Vergil looks at Dante, expression hardened and stubborn.

Dante expected it would not be an easy task to get the story out of him, but he’s determined. “Oh come on, you really didn’t think I’d ask? I told ya I’d love to hear the story, and now that your kid’s put the kibosh on us killing each other, there’s nothin’ in the way of you telling me.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

Dante rolls his eyes. “That’s a load of crap. Look,” He scoots a bit so he’s facing Vergil. “consider it practice for when you tell Nero. Because you damn well better tell him.” And it’s his turn to look serious. “She’s his mother and he has every right to know.”

Vergil’s eyes widen just a fraction. His hardened expression turns into something close to concern. “He doesn’t know anything about her?”

“Of cou-” Dante stops himself. He told Vergil bits and pieces about Nero during the however many weeks they’ve been down here, but overall Vergil still doesn’t know a lot about his son. He doesn’t know about his past or how he grew up. And Dante never thought that Vergil might not have considered that Nero never knew his mother. His heart squeezes as he realizes he’s going to have to break the bad news to Vergil. “No, he doesn’t. He grew up in an orphanage. No one has any idea who she is… except you.”

Vergil stares at the ground, brow furrowed. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would she…?”

Dante’s stepping into unknown territory. He knows his brother fairly well, at least in how he’ll react to certain things. But he doesn’t know anything about this woman nor the extent of Vergil’s relationship with her. So he proceeds cautiously. “Hey, she was young and pregnant. Probably alone. Maybe she just got scared and-”

“No.” Vergil shakes his head. “She wasn’t like that. If she – Nero wound up in that orphanage because she had no other choice. Or no choice at all.” His frown deepens.

“You think something happened to her?”

“I know something happened. But I don’t know what.”

That really unsettles Dante, because there are a number of things that could have happened. If the wrong people found out she was carrying the child of a son of Sparda… His stomach twists in knots as he considers a few scenarios before he makes himself stop. “Whatever happened, she wasn’t around. Apparently there aren’t any births recorded around the time Nero was born…” He throws that earlier caution out the window as he adds, “Popular theory is that she was a prostitute-”

He said it purely to see how Vergil would react. And his brother does not disappoint as he whirls on him and snarls, “She was not a prostitute! Why would you even-?!”

“Hey hey,” Dante holds his hands up. “I didn’t say I bought into it. I never did. Just tellin’ you that’s what Nero grew up hearing about his mother. Do you want that to be the only idea he has of her?”

Vergil’s anger dissipates, and he’s left looking tired. And sad. That’s definitely sadness, Dante can pin it this time. “No.” He sighs. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“Ha.” Dante reclines against his perch. “I have spent the last five years wondering who the hell got you to drop your pants. I never thought I’d get answers. Now you’re here, and answers I’ll get.” When Vergil continues to hesitate, Dante adds, “Look, I’ll make you a deal. You tell me about her and how you met and all that, and I’ll tell you about how I found Nero and the events of that day. It’s a hell of a story.” That he’s going to need to edit. He once jokingly noted that if Vergil knew certain parts about that story, he would kill him. That now actually might come to pass and he’d really rather avoid that.

Vergil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine.”

Dante grins and pumps his fist. “Perfect. Regale me then, oh brother of mine.” He crosses one foot over the other and settles in.

There’s a beat of silence as Vergil drums his fingers on his thigh. “I’m not quite sure where to start.”

“Well, most stories start with ‘once upon a time’-”

“I will actually stab you.”

“Not the direction I expected this story to take.” When Vergil huffs in annoyance, Dante laughs and says, “Okay, let’s try this: you two met in Fortuna, right?”

“Yes.”

“What were you doing there in the first place?”

“Seeking knowledge. I was trying to find a way to obtain our father’s sealed power. I learned about the island during my travels. Since he spent a great deal of time there in the past, and the natives seemed to have a rather vast collection of literature about him, I thought I might find what I sought there.”

“Color me surprised,” Dante remarks sarcastically. “So how did you wind up cozying up to one of those natives?”

Vergil shakes his head. “She wasn’t a citizen of Fortuna.”

Dante’s brow shoots up. “Really?” That’s not a detail he expected. “The plot thickens. Why was she there, then?”

And Vergil, now with a place to start, begins recounting a short, but important part of his life. It’s told in short bursts and a fair amount of backtracking as Vergil struggles to bring back all the details through the fog of his memory. Dante occasionally asks questions for clarity, but is otherwise silent. As the story unwinds, Dante begins to paint a picture of the woman he’s long wondered about. One thing becomes clear: I really would have liked her. He could easily see them buddying up and bonding over lovingly tormenting Vergil… and his heart breaks at the loss of what could have been but never was. It’s not fair he never got to know her, and it’s even more unfair because Nero never got to know her. He tosses a silent curse at the universe.

“That was the last time I saw her,” Vergil finishes with a sigh.

Dante’s grin has long since faded, now replaced by a thoughtful frown. “You had no idea she was knocked up?”

“No. She made no mention of it and she certainly wasn’t showing any signs. When is Nero’s birthday?”

“Uh… March. He was found at the orphanage on the 25^th, so that’s the date they go with.”

Vergil nods. “When I left it was July. She wouldn’t have been… far along, I suppose.” Suddenly his head snaps up. “March. Isn’t that when-”

“The Temen-ni-gru? Yeah, it is. Same month and year.” Dante had also made that connection when he learned Nero’s birthday. “Think it was during that same week, too. You might have already been a father by then, and me an uncle.” And they had no damn clue. They had just gone about hacking at each other and taking the first steps towards their respective fates, entirely unaware of their new family member. He looks over at Vergil, debating whether to ask the burning question. After a moment’s deliberation, he decides he’ll risk a summon sword to the face, or worse. “…if you had known, would you have done things differently?”

The anger he expects doesn’t come. Vergil simply looks down at Yamato, taking it into his hands with a pensive expression. “I’m not entirely certain. Half of me believes I would have doubled my efforts to ensure nothing would happen to him. The other half tells me I might have… rearranged my priorities. Or tried to. I hardly had the means to support a family.”

“You know I would have helped out, right?”

“Would you have?”

“Uh, yeah? It’s the only thing I can think of that I would have unquestionably backed you up on. God, I would have just been glad you were off your power-seeking bullshit and focusing on something worthwhile. You and I might have been at each other’s throats, but I would have reeled it back for the kid’s sake.”

“Mel would have put a quick end to it if we hadn’t. She always said I was wasting the luck that I had in having a brother on what she referred to as ‘machismo, idiotic sibling rivalry’. She said there was…” Vergil laughs hollowly. “That there were other ways of settling our differences.”

Dante’s lips twitch. “Like mother, like son.”

“She… would have been proud of him.” Vergil’s fingers tighten around the ribbons hanging off Yamato’s sheath.

Suddenly Dante laughs lowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Not laughing at what you said,” he quickly says before Vergil takes offense. “I’m laughing because this is the longest, most honest conversation you and I have ever had. And look at all the shit it took to get us here.”

“Are you really surprised?” Vergil asks dryly.

“No. No, I’m really not.” Dante smirks. “But I promised you a story, too.”

“You did.”

“Right.” Dante thinks back to five – hell, it’s probably going on six years ago now. “Funnily enough, I went to Fortuna to get the Yamato back. And stop a cult from taking over the world. You know, the usual fare. After I got there and shot the head honcho to stop said plan, I turned around to fight… and there was Nero.”

“Was he coming to fight you?”

“Not at first. He was trying to get himself and Kyrie out of there. But she stopped when she saw her brother near me and shouted for him. She thought I was gonna kill him. When she ran over, a guy attacked me and I knocked him back. Accidentally sent him straight into her, and she fell. Nero…” Dante chuckles. “Didn’t want her anywhere near the crazy guy who just shot their leader. So he charged… and dropkicked me in the damn face.”

Something very rare happens just then: Vergil laughs. It’s not chuckling or even that condescending sniggering Dante sometimes gets, but full-blown laughter. He’s laughing so hard there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Ahh, so this is what fatherly pride feels like,” he finally manages to say.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He has no room to complain: he was cracking up when Nero was beating Vergil up. “You wanna hear the rest of it or not?”

“Oh, absolutely. If the beginning is any indication as to how the rest of it will go, I think I’m going to enjoy it immensely.”

Chapter Text

XXXVIII

One day, after what Dante is certain has been months of wandering the underworld, the sons of Sparda finally have some luck.

It started when they sensed the presence of a large demon nearby. It emanated such an aura that they decided to investigate to see whether it was something worth worrying about. While it wouldn’t be terribly difficult to go around it, they needed to make sure it wasn’t going to pose a threat to the human world. Nero’s formidable, but they can at least help him out while they’re down there. Trade-off for abandoning him and all.

They come to an overlook that hangs above a large valley. They lay flat on the ground and peer over the edge. Down below, a large, feline looking demon paces back and forth as its minions claw and tear at a rift in the air.

"Faster, you useless bottom feeders!" the demon snarls. "I've already wasted enough time waiting for my scouts to return. Get that portal open!"

Dante perks up when he overhears. Somehow they must have found a weak point in the barrier between the planes. Ordinarily that would be a bad thing, but for the two men trapped in the underworld, it’s the opportunity they’ve been waiting for. “Well, hello.” Dante grins. “I think we just found our ticket out of here.” He looks over at Vergil, expecting him to look pleased. Instead, he seems hesitant. “That’s… that’s a good thing, Vergil. You can smile. It won’t break your face.”

Vergil’s hand curls into a fist, and then he forcibly uncurls it just a second later. “You should take the opportunity while you can. I can distract-”

“Wait, what? No.” Dante slides back, grabbing Vergil along the way so they can talk without risking the demons overhearing. “No. Either we both go or we both stay, there is no in between.”

“Dante-”

“Why do you want to stay behind?” he demands. “Don’t tell me you like this place, not after-”

“It’s all I know.” Vergil heaves out a sigh. “What do you picture me doing if I should return to the human world? I have spent decades down here, in some form or another. I’ve been in pursuit of one goal for most of my life. There’s nothing in any of what I’ve done that allows for a normal life.”

Dante fights back the urge to punch his brother. “You can find another purpose. I’ll help. And hey, in case you forgot somehow, you have a son who wants you in his life.”

“You have no way of-”

“Yes. He. Does,” he seethes. “You ripped off his arm and I lied to him for five years, and yet he stopped us from killing each other because he didn’t want to lose the family he just found. He wanted revenge for the arm you took and prepared for it for a month, and yet the moment he found out you were his father he set it aside. And if that doesn’t convince you that he wants you around, I don’t know what will.”

Vergil shakes his head. “After everything that has happened, how-”

Dante’s not having any of it and with that, he decides he's not pulling his punches anymore. “When you were Urizen, you said I never knew loss. That’s bullshit. I’ve lost plenty. I lost my father, I lost my mother, I lost my home and my childhood. You lost them, too, and I know you’ve been through your own kind of hell.” It’s so strange, being this honest with his brother. But the conversation in the cave opened up a door and Dante’s rushing headfirst through it. “But there’s a loss you’ve never experienced, one that I have: the loss of a brother. You never had to know what it’s like to watch your brother toss himself into the underworld and then spend ten years wondering what happened to him. You never had to find your brother stripped of his identity and made a tool of the monster that killed your mother. You never had to kill your brother because it was the kindest thing you could do for him, and then have to live with it for fifteen years, wishing you could go back and do it all differently so none of it would happen.” He did not mean to quite go this far, but all of it is pouring out of him and it’s too powerful for him to stop. The words have taken on a will of their own. “And I am too fucking old and tired to repeat the same mistakes, Vergil. I’m sick of the guilt and the regret. So I’m only gonna say this one more time: either we both go, or we both stay. Your choice.”

Vergil’s stunned into silence, and Dante’s never pulled that off before. All Vergil manages for a long, drawn out moment is to look at Dante, then towards the direction of the demons and the portal they’re opening, and then back at his brother. “How do you propose we get through that portal then?”

Score one for Dante. Emotional outbursts work better than he thought. Good to know. “I mostly figured we’d wait until they opened it, make a run for it, and then slide in after them. Push comes to shove, we just charge into them. As long as we get close enough, it’ll suck us in.”

“Not exactly subtle, but I suppose we can’t exactly sneak around them. We’ll have to dispatch them once we cross.”

“No kidding. But they don’t look that tough. You can close the portal with the Yamato, and we’ll go from there.”

The brothers get on all fours and peer back over the edge. Just in time, too: the demons are almost finished opening the rift.

“You ready?” Dante asks.

Vergil nods.

They quietly leap down to the bottom, keeping their steps light as they hurry towards the demons. Some underbrush provide cover for them as they dart forward, drawing closer to the demons, bit by bit. Suddenly, one of the smaller demons turns around. It shrieks loudly and point at the bush Dante’s hiding behind.

“Shit,” he snaps as he gets up. “Run!”

The demons surge forward, expecting the brothers to run away. However, they slide to a quick stop when they see the men running at them. Vergil and Dante hurtle themselves at the group, and just as the large feline-looking one jumps forward to take a swipe at them, they collide. All three go flying back… and straight into the portal.

Dante feels it pull him through. It’s disorienting for a moment, and then with a pop, he comes out the other side and stumbles over some grass. Next to him, he hears Vergil land with a thud, followed by the demon who makes a much louder crash. Dante gets to his feet. They need to take care of the demon, but he allows himself a quick moment to look up. Stars dot the night sky and the moon hangs half full among them, providing only a little light on the imminent battle down below. Dante breathes in the fresh night air. “Holy shit, we’re finally back.”

The demon hisses as it hops up on its feet. Its minions cross over, and all six of them form a defensive line in front of their leader. Dante laughs as he summons his sword. “Guess I should thank ya for giving us an exit. Almost feel bad for having to kill you. Tell you what, I’ll try and make it quick. Least I can do.”

“The sons of Sparda,” the feline demon hisses. “I’d recognize that foul stench anywhere. You may have escaped from Hell, but you won’t escape me!”

Dante rolls his eyes. “If I had a dollar for every time a demon said that…”

Vergil unsheathes Yamato. “You’d still be broke because you can’t manage your finances to save your life.”

“Bite me.”

In near perfect unison, the brothers dash forward and clash with the demons. They make quick work of the small ones and go to focus on the big one. Despite its size, it moves quickly, weaving between the two and nailing them both once each with its sharp claws. Its long tail swings out at them, knocking them down more than once. However, it’s still no match for two powerful, experienced devil hunters. Dante and Vergil in due time force it on the defensive and push it back towards the portal.

Bleeding and desperate, the demon screeches and unhinges its jaw. It opens wide and a spiky appendage fires out from the well of its mouth. It lashes at the brothers, forcing them to jump out of the way. “The hell is that?” Dante grouses as he parries the appendage with his sword.

The demon lets out another ear-piercing shriek, but just as it’s about to launch another attack, a loud gunshot echoes in the air as two bullets pierce the appendage and tear through the demon’s mouth. Its death knell is a garbled gurgle as its body collapses and dissipates. Dante turns around, because he knows that gunfire.

Sure enough, walking towards them is Nero, Blue Rose in hand. About forty yards behind him down the stretch of field the brothers landed in is the Devil May Cry-mobile. Nero raises a brow at his uncle and father, understandably surprised to see them. “Look at what the cat dragged in.”

That was low hanging fruit. But Dante can’t help but grin. “It is our lucky day. First we find a portal out, and now we got a ride. See, Vergil? Told you we’d get back fine.” He turns around, but his brother isn’t looking at him.

To be fair, Vergil’s busy sealing the rift with the Yamato, which is kind of important. It’s only once the portal disappears that he turns, sheathing his sword. “A rare instance where I’m glad you were right.”

Dante turns back to Nero, smile still in place. Nero looks well, he notes as his nephew draws near. He’s really happy to see him, especially so soon after getting back. Which, speaking of: “How long it’s been?”

“Almost five months. It’s November.”

“Only November?” Dante thought it was way longer than that. Not that he’s complaining. “I figured we’d already blew past the New Year. I’m glad to be wrong in this case.”

Nero scoffs. “Only November?”

By now, Vergil’s made his way over to them. They’re all together again, and this time, no one’s trying to kill each other. Look at that progress! Dante chuckles and begins to say, “So, how you-”

But before he gets any more words out, Nero’s spectral arms suddenly form. Dante and Vergil have no time to react before they’re grabbed and flung head first towards the van. There’s a string of swears trailing behind Dante as he and his brother soar before crashing into the ground. They bounce a few feet before they collide with the van.

“Ow,” Dante groans as he gently pries himself off the side of the van. Inside he hears a crash, then a loud swear, before someone stomps through the van. The side door bursts open, and out pops Nico. “What the shit, you psycho?! Why did you – oh.” She notices Dante and Vergil crumpled like half-demonic accordions against the vehicle. “I’ll be damned, you made it out. Welcome back, Dante.” She glances at Vergil, who’s beginning to sit up. “And you must be the deadbeat.”

“Don’t think it counts as deadbeat if you don’t know about your kid,” Nero says as he strolls up to them. “But yeah, that’s him.”

Dante nudges Vergil. “Look at that, he’s sticking up for you.”

Nero motions for Nico to get inside before he climbs into the van. When his father and uncle are slow to move, he rolls his eyes and says, “Get up and get in the damn van.”

“…nice to see you, too, Nero,” Dante grumbles.

XXXIX

Nico banishes Dante and Vergil to the back of the van, but with good reason. Five months in the underworld with little in the way of maintaining hygiene makes for two very stinky men. “You ain’t allowed up here until you’ve both showered!” she calls back from the driver’s seat. “So get to it!”

Nero digs out two pairs of old shirts and sweatpants. He leaves them out for Dante and Vergil, pointing out that their clothes reek, too, but they don’t exactly have a washing machine in the van. That’s fine by Dante: he’s probably going to burn his shirt and pants once he’s home. Somehow he’ll have to save his jacket. Maybe a dry cleaner can get the smell and stains out…

Dante lets Vergil go first, though not because he’s feeling nice. He’s got some ulterior motives, the first of which he gets to once he hears the shower kick on. He shifts forward until he’s at the edge of Nico’s workbench. He knows if he comes any closer he’ll get yelled at. “How’s it been topside?”

“Busy,” Nero says, looking over his shoulder from the passenger seat. “The Qliphoth stirred up a lot of demons and they were popping out everywhere. Lady and Trish helped out but it was crazy for a while.”

“Figures. The business gets busy and I was stuck down below.”

“You’re the one who went down there.”

Dante hears the accusatory but hurt undertone in those words. He sighs. “I know. But someone had to keep an eye on your old man.”

Nero rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m being serious.”

Nero narrows his eyes a little, trying to discern if that’s the truth or a lie.

There’s a conversation that needs to happen, but Dante doesn’t want it overheard by Nico, or risk Vergil being able to hear it through the shower. Dante signals Nero over. “Yes, I know, I smell. Just plug your nose or something and get over here.”

He gets up and walks towards the back, scrunching his nose when he gets near Dante. “What?”

Dante’s not quite sure where to start. He rubs the back of his neck and lowers his voice as he says, “I really wasn’t kidding, Nero. Your dad… Look, he’s been through some pretty awful shit. I can’t say what, it’s not my place. It needs to come from him.” He wants Nero to understand that he’s saying this not because he’s trying to hide things again but because it really is up to Vergil whether or not Nero hears about his past. Dante can’t make that decision for him. “But let’s just say it hasn’t been good and he hasn’t had anything like a normal life for… a pretty long time.” Vergil’s initial refusal to come to the human world shook Dante up pretty badly. Between that and the episode Vergil had when they came across Mundus’s former domain tells him that while Vergil purged a lot of his nightmares, some of the damage remains. “He’s going to have a hell of a time adjusting to life back up here. So, I guess if he’s… a little cagey or anything kind of weird, just keep that in the back of your mind.” Ultimately, he’s telling Nero all of this so he understands what he’s about to step into. Dante can’t and won’t tell him the details, but Nero needs to have at least an idea of what shape his father is in.

Nero’s scowl softens as Dante talks, and by the end of it it’s turned into something like worry. “It’s that bad, whatever happened to him?”

Dante nods.

Nero, blessedly, does not press Dante for the details. He just nods and says, “Okay. Got it.”

As he heads back towards the front, the shower shuts off. Dante grabs a set of clothes for Vergil and shoves them into Vergil’s outstretched hand poking out from the shower stall. A moment later, Vergil emerges, clean and in his change of clothes. They look kind of hilarious on them, Dante notes with a barely restrained snort. T-shirts and sweatpants are not remotely Vergil’s style.

“You better not have drained all the hot water,” Dante says as he begins shrugging off his coat.

“It’ll be nice and icy for you when you get in.”

“Bastard.”

Dante kicks off his boots and socks, but as he grabs a towel to head for the stall to finish undressing, he notices Vergil hanging back. He’s watching Nero and Nico chat about the best route home but makes no move towards them. Dante clears his throat. When Vergil turns, he jerks his head towards Nero. Vergil still doesn’t move; he just glances back up front. Dante rolls his eyes and hisses under his breath, “Get up there.”

Vergil hisses back, “I don’t need to be directed like a child.”

“You’re being a chicken-shit over talking to your son.”

“Fear is not the issue. It’s in how to approach him. I’m simply trying to… strategize.”

“Ask him how he’s been. Or how devil hunting’s been going. Or about the book you left with him. Or literally anything at all, just get up there.” And to emphasize his point, Dante plants his foot against Vergil’s back and shoves him. Vergil stumbles forward, loud enough to draw Nero’s attention. Before Vergil can turn on Dante, he quickly ducks into the shower stall and slams the door behind him. He rips off his clothes, bundling them into a ball. He cracks open the door just enough to toss them out of the stall before quickly shutting himself back inside. He better be talking to him, Dante grouses as he begins to shower. He’s glad he talked to Nero about Vergil’s social skills, or the lack thereof. That way the kid at least knows his father isn’t being an awkward prick entirely on purpose.

Once he’s finished showering, he pokes his head out. His change of clothes are already on the floor next to the stall. He changes into them, nearly groaning at the soft feel of cotton on his skin. Clean cotton, no less. He hangs his towel up and shakes the excess water out of his hair as he walks towards the front of the van.

Vergil’s taken a seat at the little dining table. He glances at Nero, trying to find something to say before he looks back down at the ground, brow furrowed in frustration. Dante wonders how long that’s been going on. As he approaches, Nero locks eyes with Dante before he pointedly looks at his father.

Dante almost laughs. Now you see what I meant, kid? He collapses onto the couch, and this time he does groan as he sinks into the leather. “I don’t think I’m moving anytime soon. So, what’s the plan?”

“Taking you to Fortuna,” Nero answers. “I’m not driving you all the way to Capulet City. Besides, you two look like shit and Kyrie’ll kill me if I don’t bring you by. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Five months ago,” Vergil answers, not thinking through how that’ll sound.

Dante winces as Nero immediately sits up and shouts, “What? How are you alive?” Even Nico looks worried as she spares a quick glance back at them.

“It’s okay, we’re fine,” Dante assures him. “Fun fact: demons don’t really need to eat. It sucks, but it’s possible. So good news, if you ever get stuck in the wilderness, you won’t starve.” Probably. Nero’s more human than demonic so he’s not sure how that will work with him. Hopefully there will be no reason to ever have to test that.

Nero relaxes, though he still looks a little worried as he says, “Whatever you do, don’t tell Kyrie that. She’ll cook everything in the house.” He starts a bit, as if he just remembered something. “I need to call her,” he says, grabbing the phone and dialing in the number. He doesn’t have to wait long before he says, “Hey, Kyrie.”

Dante smiles as he listens to Nero talk to her on the phone. He always gets so soft around her, and a hell of a lot nicer. In the past he’s teased Nero about it, which is usually met either with a glare or a punch to the face. Tonight he won’t risk it; he’s on thin ice as is.

“We should be back by morning,” Nero continues. He pauses, then turns his seat around. “Yeah, that’d be great. By the way, you’re gonna need to set out two more plates. Guess who crawled out of the underworld.”

Dante perks up at the mention of plates. He misses food so badly, and the thought of having a Kyrie-cooked meal makes his mouth water.

“…all right, yeah, hang on.” Nero moves the receiver from his mouth and says, “She says hi, welcome back, and wants to know what you want for breakfast.”

And he gets to pick. Dante’s mind spins with the possibilities. He had an array of her breakfast meals when he stayed with them over Christmas and it’s hard to pick just one. “I don’t suppose she’d whip up some French toast?”

Nero says to Vergil, “That work for you?”

Vergil blinks, surprised at being addressed. He quickly clears his throat and says, “Ah, yes, that’s – that’s acceptable.”

“Two votes for French toast,” Nero says into the phone. “Probably for the best, they could use the carbs.”

Dante pumps his fist. Fuck yes, French toast in the morning. He can’t wait to shovel fifteen pieces of it into his mouth. Probably all at once.

After a bit more conversation, Nero says good-bye and hangs up the receiver. “You can wash your clothes when we get there. There’s a dry cleaner in town for your dusters. Though that’s going to require a hell of a cleaning.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I lost a jacket after a stay in the underworld.” Dante will do what he can to save his duster, but he knows it might be a lost cause. Such is the price for his line of work.

“So, you two going straight back to Capulet after Fortuna?”

“Yep.”

“I’m not-”

Dante narrows his eyes at Vergil. “Yeah, you are.” Even as he says that, he knows what’s coming and prepares himself for round two of their earlier argument.

Vergil aims a steely-eyed stare right back at him. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“You kind of aren’t,” Dante shoots back. “You don’t even have a place to live, unless you have a house out there I don’t know about.”

“I’ve lived without my own home before.”

“You don’t have any money!”

“And I’ve gotten by without it.”

“‘Gotten by’. Are you listening to yourself?” Dante should have known Vergil would try to pull this after he strong-armed him into coming back to the human world. “You-”

“Enough!” Nero snaps, cutting them off before the argument escalates. “Let me get this straight,” He points a finger at his father. “You don’t have a home, you don’t have money, you don’t have a job, and I’m guessing you probably don’t own anything besides what you have on you. Right?”

Vergil stiffens a bit, and answers with a hesitant, “Yes.”

Nero’s unnervingly quiet for a moment, his expression fixed very intently on his father. Dante looks back and forth between them, unsure of what’s going to happen next.

“Here are your choices,” Nero finally says, his voice low and leaving no room for argument. “Either you stay with Dante, or you’re staying with me. I don’t know how much room Dante has, but I can tell you if you stay with me you’re either on the couch or living in here.”

Dante pipes up with, “I’ve got a whole spare room that could be yours. Just sayin’.”

“I’m-”

“Not living by yourself,” Nero finishes for him. “So, take your pick.” He pauses, and then his eyes narrow. “If you even think about trying to use Yamato to portal your way out of it, I’ll find you and confiscate the fucking sword. And you aren’t gonna be able to just pop off my arm again.”

For the first time since he was a child, Vergil’s outnumbered in his family. For decades, it’s just been Dante butting heads with him, but now he has Nero to contend with, too. Dante waits, arms crossed and admittedly a bit apprehensive about Vergil’s response. He’s always been stubbornly independent, and he’s been on his own for a long time. Not to mention he’s not a fan of being told what to do…

Vergil sighs quite heavily, signaling his annoyance. “Clearly I’m overruled and I’m not winning this argument. Fine. Dante’s it is, then.”

Dante’s shoulders tremble with suppressed laughter as Nero swivels back around. Vergil might argue with Dante until the end of time, but apparently that streak doesn’t extend to his son. I’ve got another Vergil-wrangler. This is going to be fun. His brother levels a glare at him, but Dante doesn’t care. This is rich. He’s been on his own with dealing with Vergil for so long. Now he finally has some help. “Now that that’s figured out,” Dante says, “do ya mind if use the phone? I’ve got a couple calls to make myself.”

“Yeah I bet,” Nero says as he grabs the receiver and hands it to Dante. “Who you calling first?”

“Morrison.”

Nero dials in his number.

“Thanks.” Dante leans back against the couch, listening as Morrison’s phone rings.

“Hey there, Nero. How’d the job go?”

“Close, but you gotta move one up and over on the family tree. But the job went well.”

There’s a tinny laugh from the other end of the line. “Dante! Well damn, you busted out a lot quicker this time.”

“That’s me, setting new records. So how’s my shop?”

“Fine, just fine. I took good care of it. Even had a cleaning crew come in.”

Of course he did. Morrison’s been on him for the lack of cleanliness in his shop for years. Dante hisses out a sigh. “They better not have touched any of my-”

“I oversaw the whole thing, no worries. They didn’t touch the weapons. Since you’re calling from the van, I’m guessing Nero’s taking you back?”

“Going to Fortuna first, and then we’ll be making our way back up there. We’ll be on the island in the morning, so… a couple days, I guess.”

“It’ll be ready for you.”

“By the way, I got a big ask for ya. I’ll pay you back for it later. Don’t exactly have the money right now and it’s something I need before I get back.”

“Let’s hear it. What do you need?”

“Another bed.” Dante pointedly looks at Vergil. “Someone’s moving in.”

Chapter Text

XL

Dante groans and cracks open his eyes. Sunlight streams in through the window above him. He immediately shuts his eyes again. It’s been months since he’s seen sunlight and his eyes don’t take too kindly to it. He sits up, popping his neck as he turns away from the window to prevent further blinding. “Where we at?”

“We’re in Fortuna,” Vergil answers. He's in the same spot Dante last saw him in, though he now has a cup of coffee in hand.

“We’ll be at the house in a few,” Nico tacks on. “Nero’s in the bathroom. He was gonna poke you if you weren’t up.”

“Somehow I feel like when you say poke you mean shove.”

“Toe-mato, tah-mato.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dante stretches out his back. “That was the best sleep I’ve had in months.”

“Guess they don’t exactly have hotels down there, huh?”

“The hospitality industry never caught on.”

Nico snorts.

The van rumbles along the streets of Fortuna, narrowly squeezing through side streets until they reach the outskirts of the city. Nero packs up everyone's things as Dante peers around the curtain. In the rapidly closing distance he sees the house peering just over the hill. He leans back and relaxes. Soon he'll be in an actual home with food. Sweet, sweet food.

“Finally home,” Nero sighs as Nico presses the garage door opener attached to her visor. She slows the van to a crawl as they wait for the door to open. With a hard turn of the wheel, she aims the van between the tool cabinet and some boxes, easing it into the garage. It's a tight squeeze, but they just make it in. Once they're in, Nico parks the van and she shuts off the engine . Nico pushes open the driver’s side door, hopping out. Nero grabs his gear. “I’ll try and hold the kids off,” he says before banging open the side door.

Dante motions for Vergil to keep where he’s at. Seconds later, he hears the boys’ shouts. Well, mostly Kyle’s. They yammer excitedly at Nero, asking about his job and if it’s true that Dante’s here.

“Yeah, he’s here. He’s tired and it’s been a long trip, so don’t swarm him all at once, okay?”

“Kyrie said your dad’s here, too!”

“Him too. Same thing applies. Come on, get inside and help Kyrie. You’ll see them in a bit.”

The boys duck back inside, their voices carrying until the door to the garage shuts.

Dante sighs and gets up. “Coast should be clear, but be prepared for the onslaught later.”

The brothers gather up their things before they exit the van. Dante kicks the door close behind him and looks around. The garage looks just about the same… save for the new stain on the floor near the tool shelf.

Vergil looks at the same spot. His grip on Yamato tightens.

Yeah, that’s what I figured. Dante nudges his brother. “He’s moved past it. And hey, you can only go up from here.”

“That’s a long climb to the top.”

“Maybe not as high as you think.” Dante makes sure they’re alone before he says, “Piece of advice: if you want to get on Nero’s better side – and you very much should – the best way to do that is to get on Kyrie’s good side.”

“His girlfriend.”

“Yes, and the woman who’s probably going to be your daughter-in-law someday, so it’s a worthwhile investment.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Be nice? Offer to help? Compliment her cooking? Maaaybe apologize about nearly killing her boyfriend?” Dante gestures to the door. “But one thing at a time. Come on, they’re probably wondering what the hell we’re doing.” He leads them up the short set of stairs before opening the door into the house. The smell of French toast greets him, and Dante inhales deeply; his stomach rumbles in response. He heads farther inside, making room for Vergil to come in. He sets his things down, unsure where to put them and hoping this random spot on the floor is fine.

Vergil takes in the sight of his son’s home, still clinging to his belongings in one hand and Yamato in the other.

Julio pops into the room and waves a little. “Oh hey, Dante. Uh, welcome back?”

“Thanks.” Dante pauses, and then waves him over.

Julio walks over. As he gets close, he scrunches his nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Our clothes. The underworld’s not a clean place.” Dante lays his hand flat on top of Julio’s head and then slowly moves it towards him, taking measure of Julio’s height. “Someone had a growth spurt.”

“So did Kyle. Kyrie’s just been buying us clothes a couple sizes bigger because she says we’re gonna grow into them in no time.”

And as if he was summoned, Kyle peers around the corner and then loudly proclaims, “Dante’s here!” He runs across the room, only slowing at the last second when Nero calls out for him to stop running in the house. “Did you beat up a lot of demons? Was it scary? Oh yeah, Nero said your sword broke, too?”

Dante chuckles. “Yes, kind of, and yes but I got a cooler one.” He looks past the boys, trying to see if Nero or Kyrie are watching. Then he steps back, holds out his hand, and summons his sword. It appears in a flash of hellfire.

“DUDE,” Kyle screeches. Even Julio looks on it in wide-eyed wonder.

From the kitchen, still out of sight, Kyrie raises her voice and says, “Dante, please don’t take your weapons out around the kids!”

His mouth drops, but he makes it disappear all the same. “Does she have cameras in here or something?”

“We tried to find them, but we couldn’t find any.” Kyle shrugs. “Maybe she’s psychic.”

Julio peers around Dante. “Are you Vergil?”

Oh, right. Probably should make introductions. “Yes, that is Vergil. Vergil, tall one here is Julio and slightly less tall one is Kyle. And Carlo is… where is he, actually?”

“Upstairs in time out,” Julio says. “He smacked Kyle in the nose. He’s going through a hitting phase.”

“Well then, guess I’m keeping out of his reach.”

“Hi!” Kyle says to Vergil. “So you’re really Nero’s dad?”

Vergil shifts a bit, clearly a bit uncomfortable but trying to fight through it. “Yes, I am.”

“And you’re Dante’s brother?”

“Duh,” Julio says. “They’re twins.”

“But then that means you’re Nero’s uncle.” Kyle peers inquisitively at Dante. “How come you didn’t tell us that?”

Oof. Dante did not expect that line of questioning so soon. He rubs the back of his neck and says, “It’s complicated, Kyle. I wasn’t doing it to be mean. It’s just – yeah, complicated. Really complicated.”

In another moment of fantastic timing, Kyrie comes in from the kitchen. She smiles at Dante, and then her eyes fall on Vergil. The smile fades a bit, but she quickly forces it back on as she says to the kids, “Help Nero set the table, please.”

The boys grumble but acquiesce. Once they’re out of the room, Kyrie comes closer. “Are you two all right?”

“Doing better now that we’re out.” Hoo boy, there’s tension in the room and Dante so badly wants to dispel it. “Probably not needed but I’ll do it anyway: Kyrie, this is Vergil. Vergil, Kyrie.”

Vergil has a death grip on his things, and to the untrained eye he looks rigid and uptight. But Dante knows that Vergil’s actually just incredibly nervous.

For her part, Kyrie’s a bit less sunny than usual, but she’s trying to her best to be cordial. Dante understands it’s not easy, after what Vergil did. “Nice to meet you,” she says.

Come on, Vergil. You can do it.

Vergil clears his throat and answers, “You as well.” He pauses, glancing around like an animal cornered. But as Dante begins to wonder if Vergil’s trying to find an excuse to get out of the room, his brother continues with, “You have a fine home.”

“Thank you.” Kyrie flashes a genuine smile. “Breakfast is ready. I made about two loaves worth, so I hope you two are hungry.”

“Kyrie,” Dante says. “I can assure you that it will all be gone by the time we are done.”

XLI

There’s nary a crumb left on anyone’s plate by the time breakfast wraps up. Dante and Vergil alone consumed nearly half of what Kyrie made. She jokingly asked when was the last time they ate, which Dante quickly answered with, “Nothing decent in a while” before Vergil could open his mouth and send the woman into a worried tizzy.

When Dante wasn’t shoving food into his mouth at alarming speed, he was running interference between the kids and Vergil, stepping in when their questions got to be a little too much. Vergil’s gone from having no one at all to suddenly having a whole bunch of people and it’s a hell of an adjustment. Dante’s trying to help as best he can.

The boys eventually leave the adults be and take off outside to play. Nico retires to the garage to work on… something or other, Dante doesn’t remember, he spaced out at that part. There’s a mountain of dishes left in the sink, which Kyrie takes on with a quiet sigh. Dante looks a bit sheepish, but from the corner of his eye he sees Nero head towards the kitchen to help. However, to both their surprise, he’s beaten to the punch by Vergil, who quietly offers his help. It seems Vergil is taking Dante’s suggestions to heart.

“Oh, thank you!” Kyrie says gratefully. “I’ll wash, and you can dry? Don’t worry about putting them all away right now, since you don’t know where everything goes.”

“Of course.” Vergil takes a dish towel and patiently waits next to Kyrie for the first dish.

Nero silently backs up. When he catches sight of Dante in the living room, he gives him a pointed stare before silently beckoning to follow. He ducks out the front door.

Think I know what this is about. Dante gets up and trails after him, looking back at Vergil one more time before exiting the house. He finds Nero out back, picking up some branches that fell off the tree that towers over his home. Dante ambles over to him, his boots crunching the leaves underneath. It’s a bummer he missed all of summer and most of autumn, but it’s not like he won’t see them again next year. Well, assuming he doesn’t wind up in the underworld again, which he sincerely hopes not.

Nero tosses the armful of sticks he’s gathered into the woodpile stacked up alongside the house. “You really weren’t kidding about my father.”

“Nope.” Dante looks at the branches still on the ground, sighs, and bends down to pick them up. “Give him some time. He’s been alone for a while, so his people skills are shot.”

“How long?”

“How long it’ll take? I have no clue, Nero, it’s-”

“No, I meant how long was he alone.”

Dante pauses just as he finishes gathering. Technically, he wasn’t alone when he was under Mundus’s control, but he wasn’t himself. He doubts Mundus’s minions had social get-togethers. And as to what happened to him after Mallet Island, he’s not sure. Vergil wouldn’t talk about it much. “Probably about as long as you’ve been alive.”

Nero shakes his head in disbelief. Dante knows this is a lot to hear, but he needs to know. And he knows it’s not helping that he’s not telling him exactly what happened, but he can’t. Vergil would never forgive him.

“He was in bad shape when I first – when he came here. I mean, he split himself for a reason, right? Does that – is it because you killed him?”

Dante doesn’t answer right away; he just takes his sticks and dumps them on the woodpile. He knew this conversation was coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “I think that’s part of it,” he finally says. “I’m not sure what all happened to him for a lot of those years. He was mum on the details.”

“And is that why you didn’t tell me?”

There it is, the question he’s been waiting for. Dante’s thought over this moment several times when he was in the underworld, trying to think of how to best go about it. He had things in mind, but when now faced with it, they all just disappear from his brain. “That’s one of the reasons.”

“What are the rest, then?” Nero demands. “Why the hell did you hide all of this from me?”

Dante looks at him, refusing to not stare him in the eye as he explains five years of lying. He owes Nero that much. “I wasn’t sure you’d even believe me, for starters. It’s not like I had proof, just a lot of circumstantial evidence. Even if I did, all I would leave you was with more questions. I don’t know what happened to your mother, I didn’t know how she and Vergil had met or what all happened, I didn’t know if Vergil knew about you… all I had for you was that your father is - or was dead, your mother’s gone, your grandparents are dead, and there was just me left. An uncle that had no idea what to do with you, only that he didn’t want you wrapped up in the family tragedy.”

“It’s still my family and my history!”

“It is, I know. But it’s a sad one, Nero. You’re the only good thing that’s happened to this family in a long time. And I thought – it felt like that if I kept you out of it, that you’d be spared from all of it. That you’d be able to break the cycle and have a happy life. I know, it doesn’t make a lot of sense.” Not all of his rationale was, well, rational. “And… I didn’t know if it’s what you even wanted. You made a life for yourself here. I didn’t want to come in and wreck it more than I already had. I didn’t want you to resent me for telling you the truth when you were happier not knowing it.” The Sparda family isn’t exactly the most stable, emotionally well-rounded bunch. Dante knows they’re not the type of family one hopes to get.

He can’t quite tell if Nero agrees with his reasoning. He’s still scowling, but then, he usually is. But his tone softens unexpectedly when he says, “You said you didn’t know about my mom. Does that mean you do now?”

Dante nods. “Took a lot of prying, but he told me.”

“I know it needs to come from him, but…” Nero motions with his hands, trying to come up with the words. “Do I want to know?”

“Is there a reason you wouldn’t…?”

“I - It’s easier to think she just ditched me. But, sometimes I wondered what she might be like. I’ve thought about it a lot and if she was - I have this picture of her in my head, and I – forget it. I don’t-”

Nero tries to leave, but Dante’s grabs his arm to keep him in place. “You want to know,” he answers. He gets it; he’s afraid she won’t live up to the image he has in his head. Dante can’t promise that she won’t, but she’s still worth knowing about. “She’s not what the rumors suggest.”

Nero breathes out a sigh through his nose. “So you heard about those.”

“I did. Pretty ridiculous from where I was standing.” He shakes his head. “She wasn’t even from here.”

“Seriously?”

“From what Vergil said, yeah. But I’ll leave the rest up to him. I don’t know if he’ll just come out and tell you, Nero, so be ready to ask.”

“Am I gonna have to pry it out of him, too?”

“I don’t think so. He knows you have a right to know about her and I think he wants you to know the truth. He just shot me down at first because I was being nosy.” He tries to smile, but it doesn't last long as he continues, “He doesn’t know what happened to her. I can say that he was surprised that you didn’t know about her and he said she wasn’t the type to ditch her kid at an orphanage.”

Nero’s shoulders sag a little. “I didn’t think he’d know, but… then what the hell happened to her?”

“Something you two need to figure out. But for now…” He gestures to the house. “I better get inside and check on your old man. It’s the first time I’ve left him alone and there might be some damage control needed.”

“Give Kyrie some credit,” Nero says with a chuckle. “She can hold her own better than you think.”

Chapter Text

XLII

Surprisingly, there were no figurative fires to put out in Vergil’s wake. Dante found him still helping with the dishes and in mid-conversation with Kyrie. From the bit he eavesdropped on, Kyrie was doing most of the social weight-lifting, but Vergil was at least trying.

Dante takes a quick food coma nap on the couch. He had just meant to close his eyes for a moment, but he wakes up a short time later with a start. Kyrie’s still in the kitchen, finishing up cleaning. Vergil and Nero have disappeared.

He gets up and stretches, taking in the warm sunlight streaming in through the front window. Pretty soon he needs to start figuring out how to get home. It wouldn’t surprise him if Nero and Kyrie insist they spend at least one night here before heading back. It’ll mean sleeping in the van or living room, but after a five month stint in Hell, it sounds like a luxury. After that, then they’ll-

Oh, wait. Yamato. They can be back at the shop in seconds. Problem solved. Who’d have thought having Vergil around would be so handy?

He moseys into the kitchen. Kyrie’s watching something through the window above the sink, and there’s a smile on her face. Dante peers out the back door window to see what she’s looking at.

On the porch are Vergil and Nero. The elder is sitting on a deck chair while the younger leans against a support column. They’re talking. Dante’s not sure what they’re talking about as he can’t quite hear them, but all that matters is that they are. He watches them unnoticed as Nero picks up Yamato and holds it in his hands. He can’t see their expressions with their backs turned to him, but it seems to be a pleasant conversation. Maybe Nero’s taking a trip down memory lane?

As they converse, Dante says to Kyrie, “So, what exactly were you and Vergil talking about?”

“I was telling him about the town. He was here in the past, so he was curious about what had changed, especially after the attack.”

“So he actually talked.”

Kyrie laughs. “Not so much at first. But he opened up a little after a while.” Her smile falls. “He did apologize for what happened in April. He said he knows it doesn’t change it, but it meant a lot to hear him say it. I really think he regrets it.”

“He does. He wasn’t in the… best state of mind, or being. If I had any idea that would have happened, I’d have never left the Yamato with Nero.”

“You know, as awful as things were at the time, it all sort of worked out for the better. Not for the poor people of Redgrave, but for you guys. I just hope…” Kyrie clasps her hands together, almost like she’s praying. “I hope they make the best of this.”

“That makes two of us.”

“He was worried about you and Vergil.” Kyrie keeps looking out the window as she talks. “Something tells me he thought a lot about trying to go find you.”

“That woulda been a bad call.”

“I know, and he knew that, too. But he – it was hard, knowing you were down there and that he couldn’t do anything about it.”

Dante feels bad about it still, even if it was necessary. He knows what it’s like to feel so helpless, to know that someone you love is in danger but you can’t help them. “None of it played out exactly how anyone wanted.” He finally looks over at her. “How pissed is he? Really.”

“He’s hurt that you just left and he’s… he felt abandoned. He knows that you had to leave, but it didn’t make it hurt less.” Kyrie sighs. “And then there’s the whole lying to him part.” That’s paired with a brief but piercing glare from her before she quickly schools her expression.

Looks like there’s two pissed off kids. “I got an earful about that.” And he wonders if he’s about to get round two from Kyrie.

Instead, she says something that catches Dante completely off-guard: “I wondered how long it would be before he found out.”

Dante blinks, stupefied. “You knew?”

“I strongly suspected. For one thing, you look very similar. He has demonic powers, you have demonic powers… And I remember His Holiness referring to him as a descendant of Sparda.” Kyrie shrugs. “I’m not sure if Nero didn’t notice, or if he was just afraid to ask.” There’s a nervous little laugh. “I’ll be honest, I got a few of the details wrong, but when he told me what he learned, I wasn’t surprised.”

Dante had been so wrapped up in keeping the truth from Nero, he never thought to figure out if Kyrie had caught on. Short-sighted on his part, and he rubs the back of his neck. “If he did suspect, it might explain a few things.” And he’s not sure he wants to go down that rabbit hole. Best to leave it be, at least for now. Dante looks back out the window.

The mood on the back porch has changed while he and Kyrie were talking. Nero’s looking intently at his father, and Vergil’s very much not looking at Nero, instead fixing his gaze across the yard. Uh oh. Dante gestures to Kyrie to keep quiet as he ever so carefully and quietly cracks open the back door. He still doesn’t want them knowing he’s there, but considering the expressions he saw before he left, he suspects he best listen in. He angles himself to stay out of their line of sight, though by doing so he can no longer see them.

“If you don’t want to tell me, I’m not gonna force it out of you,” Nero says, his voice barely carrying through the marginal opening.

There’s a beat of silence. Dante frowns, fighting the urge to pop out and ask what’s going on.

“…what have you been told?” Vergil finally answers.

“Not much. Dante won’t really tell me anything. He just said you’ve been through a lot and that if I want to know what happened it has to come from you. Nico said Trish told her that Dante killed you once, which… doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense.”

Dante rubs a hand over his face. He may need to warn Trish that Vergil knows what she said. Trish can handle herself well enough, but better she’s prepared.

“She’s not entirely wrong.” There’s another pause, and Dante really wishes he could see facial expressions. He can’t tell from here if Vergil’s struggling or just choosing his words carefully. “To explain everything that’s happened to me would require a lot of time and…”

“If you’re not ready, then just say that. I told you I’m not gonna force it out of you.”

“…no, I’m not ready.” And Dante knows it took a lot of pride swallowing for Vergil to admit that. His heart aches a bit. “But you will hear of it when I am. Just know, it’s not a pleasant story, Nero.”

“Wasn’t really expecting it to be.”

Vergil sighs. “I will say this: I made… some decisions that led me to near ruin. My life was destroyed, and by the time Dante got around to killing me… it was the kindest thing he could have done. And he knew it.”

There’s a very heavy pause. “So it was a mercy kill?”

“You could say that.”

Dante barely hears Nero swear under his breath. He’s glad that Vergil at least made that distinction, lest Nero think that Dante killed Vergil because of their now former(ish) rivalry. Perhaps he did it as thanks for Dante keeping his mouth shut about everything.

“Well.” There’s a forced huff of a laugh from Nero. “Whatever happened, it’s not happening again.”

“It’s impossible to-”

“It’s. Not. Happening. Capiche?”

Dante snorts quietly as he very cautiously shuts the door, leaving father and son to their conversation. He’s eavesdropped enough on them for now.

As he turns around, he’s met with Kyrie glancing worriedly at him. “I knew things had not been good for Vergil, but I never thought it would be anything like that.”

A part of Dante wishes Kyrie hadn’t heard all of that, but then again, she’s pretty much a part of the family. She needs to know, too. “It wasn’t a good time for either of us. And I’m sure that conversation is only the first in a string of many uncomfortable talks to come.”

“But they have to have them. You can’t move forward if you don’t confront what’s uncomfortable. Avoiding something just because you’re afraid gets you nowhere.” She clutches at her pendant. Dante gets the distinct feeling she’s talking from experience.

Before he even debates asking her about it, he catches some movement outside. He glances out the window to see Vergil holding the Red Queen in hand. “Huh.”

Nero’s gesturing to the handle; he’s probably explaining to Vergil how to rev it. Dante and Kyrie exchange amused looks as Vergil fusses with it for a moment. Then there’s a loud VROOOOOOM as Vergil fires it up. His brother inspects the sword closely. He says something, and Nero rolls his eyes.

Dante mimics Vergil’s voice, “I don’t know why a sword needs an engine. The blade itself should be enough. I’m a snobby purist and have no concept of what’s cool.”

Kyrie snorts, trying very hard to contain her laughter. “That – that’s not very nice.”

“I guarantee you he said something along those lines.”

Nero says something, and a smirk appears. Vergil lifts his chin up in challenge, and soon enough the two of them are getting up and heading into the backyard. Strangely, Nero’s still holding the Yamato and Vergil the Red Queen.

“Oh, this I have to see,” Dante declares before opening the back door and stepping out onto the back porch. If they’re going to be fighting with the other’s weapon, then it promises to be an entertaining match, especially since Nero’s used to the Yamato but Vergil’s never handled the Red Queen before.

Standing there on Nero’s back porch, Dante watches as father and son square off. It’s not what one might consider to be a healthy way to bond, but then, what do they know? This is how they roll in this family. And so long as they’re bonding, that’s all that Dante cares about. It’s a nice moment, and he feels at peace as he spectates the impromptu sparring match. But his thoughts begin to wander.

He doesn’t know what the future holds for them. Vergil has a long road ahead of him, and Dante needs to figure out something Vergil can sink his teeth into, lest his mind start to wander back to his old habits. He desperately hopes that this new life will be enough for Vergil to let go of his ceaseless pursuit of power. He doesn’t want to lose his brother again, and he doesn’t want Nero to lose his father. With any luck, his outburst in the underworld, and then Nero’s subsequent rant/threat in the van got the point across.

That aside, he needs to keep mediating as needed on Vergil’s behalf while he adjusts to life in the human world. He doesn’t plan on doing it forever, but right now his brother needs all the help he can get. He’s not sure how well living together is going to go, but there’s only one way to find out. If they trade off jobs, then hopefully they’ll be out of each other’s hair enough to prevent any impulsive stabbings.

Then there’s Nero. He has a lot to make up for and still some things to explain. Which is tricky because there’s a lot Nero doesn’t know but Dante can’t say anything about. He hopes Vergil will keep his word and tell Nero everything. As difficult as it will be, Nero should know what his father’s gone through. If he’s going to inherit this legacy from his father and uncle, he needs to know what he’s in for. In the meantime, he just hopes the two will find common ground and build a relationship. They’re certainly alike enough, if they know what to look for.

In short, Dante’s going to be a very busy man.

And honestly? He’s fine with that. Happy, even. Because he has things to look forward to. Sure, it’ll be hard sometimes and he’s certain he’s going to want to throttle Vergil along the way, but that’s a small price to pay for having his family together.

A familiar pain wraps around his chest. He misses his mother so much in that moment. His father, too. He wishes they were here to see this, to help him with this. But the funny thing is, the pain he’s feeling isn’t as sharp as it used to be. It’s less grief-stricken and more just… bittersweet. Still heavy but not as heavy. Maybe this is what it’s like to move on, he realizes with a surprised chuckle.

Vergil and Nero trade blows, but they’re both smiling as they do. This is a far cry from their fight at the top (bottom, whatever) of the Qliphoth. They’re enjoying this test of strength and skill, and within it they’re beginning to connect.

Dante smiles widely. No, he doesn’t know what the future holds for them, but he’s not as worried. One way or another, they’ll figure it out. I think it’ll be all right. We’ll be all right.

He’s going to make sure of it.