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Chapter Text

          "So.... Are we ever gonna talk about this?" Nero says, leaning not-so casually against the double doors of the shop after a job well-done—after yet another client commented on their resemblance and how Dante must be so proud. 

          Dante glances up from the desk where he's been cleaning Ebony and Ivory for the past fifteen minutes. His brow wrinkles. "Talk about what, kid?" 

          "I'm not a kid." 

          "Are, too. Now, talk about what?" 

          Nero awkwardly waves a hand over himself and gestures toward Dante, unsure if he can format what he's thinking into words. If he asks directly, he thinks he might be afraid of the answer. "This. Us." 

          "You're a nice kid and all, but I don't think Kyrie would take too kindly to that kinda thing." 

          A scowl etches onto Nero's face. "You know what I mean." 

          "Do I?" 

          Nero holds back a snappish response and a growl. Dante never gives him a straight answer. Ever. He always evades, twists things around until the original conversation is nowhere in sight. Nero should've known better than to think being vague would get him what he wanted. 

          "Why do I look like you?" 

          Dante freezes momentarily, a crack in that damn mask he always wears, and then shrugs like nothing is wrong. "Lots of people look like lots of people, kiddo. Told you before, it's just the hair." 

          "That's bullshit and you know it." 

          A warning flash of ember sparks in Dante's eyes and Nero swears his pupils flick into slits. 

          "You think I'm stupid or something? When we met, I had demons going on and on about Sparda's blood in me. Lo and behold, his own kid shows up out of nowhere. Then you let me keep this!" Nero summons the Yamato to his palm. "You don't just give shit like this to people. Not after saying it needed to stay in the family." 

          "I told you, you earned it. It was a gift." 

          "Yeah, you did. You also directly implied we were related, and I stare at the genetic proof of that in the mirror every day! Do you just not want me, or what?!" 

          Dante's expression hardens. Nero suddenly feels the distinct urge to backpedal, to take it back, because he overstepped. "First off," Dante begins, rising from his seat. "You're not my son." He steps closer to Nero. "Second off, if I didn't want you around, I wouldn't have given you the Yamato in the first place. I wouldn't have let you into my business. And third?" The devil hunter presses closer until Nero stumbles back into the couch. Then, when Nero is left with nowhere else to go, Dante's face softens into something far, far too vulnerable. "Don't you think I would've told you if you were mine?" 

          "You're weird about details." Nero manages. "Always. You've been dodging the question since day one." 

          With a heavy sigh, Dante pulls back and scrubs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, kid. I may not be your father, but I do know who is. I can't tell you much about him, though." 

          "Can't or won't?" 

          "One, the other, both. Does it matter?" 

          Nero sucks in a breath as though Dante backhanded him. Of course, it fucking matters. He spent his whole life wondering where the hell he came from, who his family was, and why they left. Of course, it matters. Was it so terrible of him to want to know? "I just want to know who I am." 

          "Nero, last I checked." 

          "Stop doing that! Stop pretending you don't know what I'm asking! Stop playing fucking word games with me and answer the damn question! If you know who my father is, then tell me!" Nero huffs in frustration when he feels angry tears welling in his eyes. 

          Dante clenches his jaw and faces the door of his shop, fully intending to walk out. 

          "Don't you dare." 

          "What do you want from me, kid?" 

          Nero scowls again, pushing himself up from the couch and closing the distance Dante put between them. "I just told you. I want to know who my father is. You're not deaf, and you're not fucking dumb no matter what stupid shit you do trying to prove it." 

          Dante stares him down, unmoved by his rant. That's how he always is: unmoved. And it's fucking infuriating. Always a laugh and a joke here, and a cocky trick there—Dante never gives an inch. 

          "Please, Dante." Nero croaks, a lump building in his throat. "Why won't you just tell me?" 

          Fighting like this could ruin his relationship with Dante, and if Dante refuses to tell him in the end, he'll be out on his ass with no business, no answers, and one less friend. He can't fathom losing Dante, despite only knowing him three years. Besides Nico, who else will just hang around and bullshit with him? And, for all he pretends to hate it, who else is going to call Nero 'kid' and ruffle his hair? 

          What if he pushes away the only person who really knows what his life being different is like? 

          Dante finally looks at Nero, and the younger hunter almost hates the way he softens again. He lifts a hand to the side of Nero's face. "Don't cry, kiddo." 

          Nero can't not cry. This is the closest he's been to knowing where he came from his entire life. Tears sting his eyes and a sob tumbles from his lips. He feels stupid, standing in the middle of the room and crying like a child in front of Dante, but he can't stop. What's worse is that Dante just stands there, Nero's cheek still cupped in his right hand. Nero longs to press in closer, to seek the comfort he sorely needs, but Dante isn't his father. He's under no obligation to help Nero with his teary face, hiccupping sobs, or the breaths gasping in and out of his chest. His body feels too small, his ribcage too tight for the amount of oxygen he needs. 

          All at once, everything changes. 

          "Come here, Nero. It's okay." 

          Arms wrapped up in red curl around Nero, allowing him to lean against a familiar muscled chest. And he almost doesn't understand. How could this be happening? A hand strokes his hair, gently carding through it, and another one rubs the spot between his shoulder blades. Dante, ever-aloof and fake-cheerful Dante, hushes Nero. 

          "I didn't tell you, because...." He sighs, taking a heavy breath. "Because he's dead, kiddo." 

          And suddenly it makes sense. 

          So, Nero cries. He never had a chance to have parents. He never had a chance to know if they would've kept him, or even loved him at all. "Can you...?" A sob wrenches out of his chest, and another, and a strangled squeak he hates himself for. "Can you at least tell me his name?" 

          Dante pulls back, rubbing Nero's shoulders with a pained smile on his face. He really must look pathetic if Dante's taking pity on him. "You never quit, do you? Stubborn kid." 

          Nero chokes out a laugh, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his clawed hand. 

          "If I tell you his name, you gotta promise me one thing, okay?" Dante waits for agreement from Nero, teary as it is, before continuing. "Don't try to look into him." 

          Of course, that's the deal. Of course, it is. 

          How desperate does he have to be to say yes? The answer: stupidly. 

          "I promise." 

          "His name.... His name was Vergil." 

Chapter Text

          Red Grave City, June 3rd 

          Two Years Later

          Nero sits across from V in the van, bouncing his knee over and over. Dante couldn't even beat Urizen, so what are they going to do now? A better question is where is Dante himself? Without his powers, Nero doesn't have much of a sense for demons anymore, even if he can pick out their scents sometimes. He can always tell when he finds damage to the city done by Yamato. Her song echoes in his blood, and painfully so. 

          "You're anxious." 

          The devil hunter shoots V a look. "No shit, Sherlock." 

          "Are you afraid of what Urizen will do? Or are you more concerned with what has befallen your business associates?" V closes his book, giving his full attention to Nero for pretty much the first time since dragging him out of the Qliphoth kicking and screaming. He seems more tired than usual today, his hand trembling lightly on the cup of water he drinks from. 

          "All of the above? I dunno. Dante was our best bet, and he's-" Nero stops himself. He refuses to believe Dante is dead until he sees the body for himself. "He's still missing." 

          V gives low hum in response. "I can understand what it is like not to know what happened to one's father." 

          Nero shakes his head with a startled noise. "What? No. Dante's not my dad." 

          "Oh?" V lifts his cup for another long drink. 

          "Yeah. He said my dad's some guy named Vergil." 

          Nero jumps out of his seat when V chokes on his water, coughing violently. His frail body doesn't take it well and he bends over his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. By the end of it, there are tears in his eyes and his spooky shadow cat has her head in his lap. 

          "Are you good?" Nero ventures. 

          V clutches his chest with one hand, panting as he looks up at Nero. His voice comes in a ruined croak. "Would you care to repeat that sentence?" 

          "Are you good? Like, okay?" 

          "Not that one. The... the one before." 

          Nero blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. "My dad's name was Vergil?" 

          V's eyes widen and his gaze slides to Nero's arm with horror. And, in a spectacular and uncharacteristic show of crass language, he utters a dumbfounded, "Motherfucker." 

          "What?" 

          "I...." V clears his throat, coughing again. "Nero. You're not going to like what I have to say." 

          Nero shrugs. "I don't like a lot of things. Hit me." 

          The flippant response garners a nervous laugh out of V. "Urizen. The devil we're hunting.... He's my demonic half. As one singular being, we are.... I am Vergil. Dante's brother." 

          The young devil hunter scowls. "Is this a joke?" 

          V's mouth falls open wordlessly for a moment. "I.... What?" 

          "Is. This. A joke." Nero repeats, words edged with anger. Of all the reactions V expected, anger was not one of them. "Don't fuck with me just for shits and giggles. It's already been a long-ass month and I don't need you putting icing on this particular cake." 

          "I'm serious, Nero. As one being, I'm his twin brother. I don't...." His eyes fall to Nero's arm again. "What have I done? " he breathes. One shaky breath, and another, and then he staggers to the door of the van and tumbles out. 

          Nero hears the distinct sound of V vomiting. 

          Shit. 

          He was serious. 

          Fuck. Nero gapes at the open door, unable to do anything but. His father was the one who cut off his arm. His father was also the one who kicked Dante's ass. His father... split himself in half? Somehow? This is so fucked. 

          In his shock, it takes him a long time to realize V has gone quiet, but when he does, he snaps to his feet. Did Vergil just ditch him? 

          Oh, hell no. 

          Nero darts outside, skidding to a stop when he sees V not too far from where he stands. He's a few yards down the block, leaned up against a post box as he fights to control his breathing. It's not working. Nero hears his panicked wheezes and choked sobs interrupting one another. It's ridiculous, Nero thinks, that he's the calm one here. 

          Even so, V's body isn't particularly strong, and he needs to calm down before he passes out. 

          The young devil hunter reaches V in a few strides, crouching down in front of his father and taking hold of his shoulders. "Hey. Listen to me, you gotta relax. Your body can't handle too much of this." 

          "Relax?" V hisses. "It's- This is.... You're-" 

          "I know. I get it, but we can talk about this when you can breathe." Nero answers, threading calmness he doesn't feel into his voice.  

          He wants to demand information from V. And beat the shit out of Dante. 'Can't tell you much about him,' as if! As if he didn't have a thing to say about his own fucking brother?! He didn't think maybe Nero would want to know he had an uncle?  

          It feels like eternity, when realistically it's probably only a few minutes, but Nero eventually has V breathing in time with him. His father's hand rests on his chest where he can feel the rise and fall of his breaths, and Nero vaguely recognizes the danger in Vergil touching him at all. Yet, he doesn't mind. If this reaction was any indication, V—Vergil, whatever—clearly has no intention of hurting him again. 

          "Let's get you back to the van." 

          Vergil leans heavily on his cane as they walk, climbing into the van again and sitting down. He drains the rest of his abandoned water desperately. Once finished, he drops his elbow onto the table, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead and closing his eyes. He probably wishes this were a bad dream he could wake up from. 

          "Are you... kinda okay-ish now?" 

          A laugh startles out of V's chest. "Okay-ish is... is so far overstated, I cannot even describe to you how much." 

          Nero quietly agrees, shockingly so. What has the world come to that he's the level-headed one? "Uh, well.... How about 'slightly further away from a mental breakdown?'" 

          "That fits." V mutters.  

          "Good. Or- Or great, I guess." 

          He finally looks up at Nero when the devil hunter starts fidgeting a few minutes later, significantly steadier now that the shock has worn off. "I'm afraid I don't even know where to begin, but I suppose it should be me who does it. So.... How long have you been in Dante's care?" 

          "I... never was?" 

          Vergil blinks.  

          "We only met five years back, and he didn't tell me about anything. Just gave me the Yamato and disappeared for a few weeks. After that, he let me into his business and sent me the neon that's on the side of the van. Don't get me wrong. It was obvious we were related, but he never...." 

          His father waits patiently for the end of the sentence. Nero isn't sure how to express exactly what Dante put him through without painting him in an ugly light. 

          "I dunno. He just.... He was distant. Like he was guilty or something. But I wasn't his, so I don't really get that." 

          Vergil clicks his tongue. "Ah." 

          "What?" 

          "It makes sense, given context." V says, vague and unhelpful as Dante ever was. 

          Nero keeps his frustration in check, but only just. The brothers' relation couldn't be more obvious as of right now. "Not to rush you, but I feel like I have a right to know what that context is. I'm sick and tired of bullshit answers." 

          "Dante likely told you I was dead, no?" 

          "Yeah? And? Obviously, he lied." Nero grits out, the corner of his mouth twitching irritably.  

          Dante always knows more than he says, told Nero as much back then, too, but Nero traded away his ability to ask questions for a single name. It was enough, then, and Nero gave his word. So, why does it feel like such a betrayal now? 

          Vergil shakes his head. "Dante did not lie to you." 

          Nero glowers. 

          "I know how it sounds, but this is not an attempt to save face. It is the truth. Dante believed I was dead." Vergil waits for Nero's expression to relax before finishing his statement. "Because he was the one who killed me. Or thought he did." 

          "I...." Nero struggles to form words. He settles for three. "What the fuck?" 

          Vergil hums. "I was... different. Not myself. Dante likely did not realize until after it was over." 

          "What do you mean, 'different?' What happened?" 

          The raven-haired hunter sighs, anxiously tapping his tattooed fingers against his cane. "Have you ever heard of a demon called Mundus?" 

          Nero nods. Who from Fortuna hasn't heard of him? Until the Order fell, there were maybe ten people on the entire island who didn't live and breathe Order doctrine. "Sparda sealed him away, right?" 

          "Quite so. I encountered him." 

          "He's back?" 

          V shakes his head, seemingly struggling to find the words. "Twenty-five years ago, I fell into his domain after a foolish mistake." He huffs. "An incredibly foolish mistake. Dante tried to stop me, and, had I not been so blinded by my pursuit of power, I might've listened. But I was... captured. Tortured endlessly until I lost all sense of self. He took everything, until I was little more than a tool with no will of my own. Without Dante's interference, I would still be his slave." 

          Nero can't imagine, though his stubborn brain certainly tries. "But you survived. Then what?" 

          "I'm... uncertain. My memories of the time after are fractured." 

          "What about Urizen? Would he have the rest, or?" 

          Vergil huffs. "No. Urizen is... mindless of all but his strife for power. When I split myself with the Yamato, I cast off all I deemed weakness: my illness from Mundus's corruption, my pain, my human half, and nearly all of my memories. I had intended to seek the Qliphoth fruit to heal myself, but Urizen.... As evidenced by all of Red Grave, he does not care for the destruction he has caused. All he wants is power, and to destroy Dante. As for my brother, Dante believes he is Vergil, as a whole, because I could not bring myself to tell him the truth." 

          Nero has no words for how messed up this situation is. 

          "If Urizen...." Vergil swallows. "If Urizen killed him, then my little brother's blood is on my hands." 

          "Fuck." 

          "Indeed." 

          The young devil hunter shakes his head. "No, I mean.... This is so fucked up. Why wouldn't you tell him it was you? If he thinks he killed you, then wouldn't he be glad you were back?" 

          Vergil casts Nero a sidelong look. 

          "I'm serious. Don't you think he'd want to know that demon in the Qliphoth is just barely you? That there's some humanity left to fight for?" 

          "We don't have the most caring history with one another, Nero." 

          Nero rolls his eyes. "Obviously, but that didn't stop him from loving you." At V's astonished expression, Nero snaps, "He wouldn't have spent the last however-many years guilting himself over it if he didn't! And every day he spent with me, I can bet you it was worse, because he would look at me and see you. He had to see me and know the reason you weren't here was because of him." 

          "Hardly. That's.... It was Mundus's doi-" 

          "For such a smart guy, you're fucking stupid." Nero growls, leaving his father staring open-mouthed and speechless, and slumps into the passenger's seat. 

          He turns the radio on, making it clear their conversation is over for the time being. Nero kicks his feet up on the dash with a sigh. How did this become so messy? All his life, he wanted a family. Well, now he has one, and it's absolutely fucked. Vergil is sick and dying. Dante might be dead. Urizen is doing who only knows what. Trish and Lady are missing. Nico's holding out a record for the longest time taken to go get cigarettes. And Kyrie.... 

          Kyrie. Nero relaxes just thinking of her. Kyrie is safe at home with the kids, and she's probably making them sandwiches for lunch right now. Nero glances back at his father—his father. He's staring down at the floor, cane gripped loosely in his hands.  

          It couldn't hurt to call and talk to Kyrie about all this, right? 

          Nero dials, snatching the phone off its cradle and popping the door open. "Gotta make a call, V. I'll be back." 

          Vergil doesn't answer, not that Nero expected him to. Nero slips out of the van, crouching down next to the front tire and leaning against it. He listens to the phone ring while taking a few deep breaths of his own. 

          " Hello?"  

          "Kyrie." Nero whispers.  

          " Nero? Are you all right? You sound... off. Did something happen? Did you find Dante?"  

          A laugh flops from his lips. "Yeah, Kyrie. I'm fine. We didn't find Dante, but I did find someone else." Nero almost can't believe the words himself. "I found my father. He's alive." 

          Kyrie's brilliant smile transcends all barriers. " Really? That's amazing, Nero! What's he like?"  

          "Well, uh.... Heh. Do you remember when I told you about V? Dante's client? His real name is Vergil, and he's actually Dante's brother. Dante was my uncle this whole fucking time." He refrains from mentioning it was also his father who took his arm, because chances are, she would demand to speak to Vergil and he really doesn't want to have that conversation until this whole mess is over. They have more pressing concerns. "Kyrie. My father, he's.... He's sick." 

          " Oh. Is there anything you can do?"  

          Nero shrugs, even knowing she can't see it. "I don't know. He's holding it together for now, but he is getting worse." Why is it that whenever he cares about someone, he's always one wrong step away from losing them? "There's more that I should tell you, but it'll have to be after we figure out this whole demonic tree thing." 

          " That's okay. What about you, Nero? How are you holding up? As surprising as this is to me, it must be a lot more for you to process."  

          She would ask the hard question. "I'm... not great. Kyrie. It feels like I'm gonna lose it all if I do the wrong thing. The demon we're after might've ki-" Nero falters. "Even Dante couldn't beat this thing. What the hell am I supposed to do about it?" 

          " Nero, you always know what needs to be done, even if you don't know how yet. Focus on that, and worry about the details along the way. You always do."  

          Nero nods, swallowing down his fears. "Yeah. Thanks, Kyrie. I love you." 

          " Love you, too, Nero. Be careful."  

          "I will." 

          With that, Nero steadies himself, tells Kyrie goodbye, and picks himself up off the ground. He slips back into the van. His father sits exactly where Nero left him, though Griffon is perched above him on the jukebox now, softly clicking his beak. Shadow has her head in Vergil's lap again and she purrs deep in her throat. 

          "All right, V. First things first. We'll table the 'you're my dad' talk for later. We need to find a way through the city." 

          "Even if we do, I don't know that we'll be able to defeat Urizen." Vergil answers, his familiars dispersing into black ash and reforming his tattoos. "We would need no small amount of strength, and while I am not defenseless, Urizen will destroy me if given the chance. If I am to rejoin with him, he would need to be very weak." 

          "We'll figure that bit out, too." 

          Vergil hums. "You seem quite confident." 

          "No way to go but forward." Nero steps into the back of the van, digging in the fridge for something to eat. If he's going to be fighting demons all day, he'll need the fuel. "Now, I'm gonna ask you this again, since you never answered me the first time." 

          Vergil cocks a brow. 

          "Are you hungry?" 

Chapter Text

          Red Grave City, June 15th 

          Nero kicks the unconscious devil hunter in the ribs. "Wake the fuck up, uncle Dante!" 

          Vergil chuckles when his brother doesn't respond. "He can be quite stubborn. Obviously, considering he's still alive in the first place." He extends a hand to Nero. "Allow me." 

          "Uh.... Can you even lift this?" 

          "Lift, yes. Wielding it.... Now, that's another matter." V wraps his hand around the Sparda's handle, dragging it around Dante and offering his son a devious smirk. "Do you trust me?" 

          Nero makes a noncommittal noise. "Debatable." 

          "No matter." Vergil huffs, hefting the Sparda over Dante's head. He drives it down before Nero can even extend a hand his direction, though the effort was made. V doesn't stab Dante, but the temptation was there. He drops to the ground, heaving with exertion as his brother sits up. 

          Dante groans. "You know, for a second there, I thought you were gonna shishkabob me." 

          "I know how stubborn you can be. Nero tried kicking you, but I figured the threat of imminent death would be far more expedient." 

          "Nero?" 

          Vergil motions to the cave entrance somewhat lazily, staving off his recurrent trembling. 

          Dante meets Nero's eyes, unsurprised by the taste of anger hovering around the kid. What does surprise him is the casual way he waves rather than kicking off their conversation with a punch. He fully expected it after what he said. No doubt, Nero would've held it against him to use as fuel for the fire. 

          "Hey, uncle Dante." 

          "Heya, kid." Dante answers, pushing to his feet with a stiff moan. He stretches out unused muscles, making sure to ruffle Nero's hair despite the kid smacking his hand. "Ugh. Fuck. What day is it?" 

          "The fifteenth of June." V responds. 

          Dante blinks, casting a shocked glance at the raven-haired hunter. "A month? Well, no wonder I'm so stiff." He opens his mouth to ask something else, but all higher processing seems to stop when he wheels around to face Nero. His mouth moves without words for a few seconds. "What the hell did you just call me?" 

          "Dante?" 

          "No, no. The bit before." 

          Nero's smirk is predatory. "Uncle? That's what you are, isn't it? Vergil's your brother?" 

          The older devil hunter lifts a finger in his direction. "Who told you that?" 

          "Your brother." Nero's smile unnerves Dante, especially when he jabs a careless thumb in V's direction. "We've been catching up while we looked for you." 

          Dante tilts his face up, closes his eyes, and lets out the longest, most heavy-laden sigh Nero has ever heard. "I knew there was something off about you, V. Between that damn book, your horrible fake name, and your spooky pets, I guess I should've known, huh?" 

          V wilts a little when Dante finally faces him. "I wasn't lying to you about Urizen." 

          "True, but you did lie about who you were." 

          "I told you he'd have wanted to know it was you." Nero pipes up, smug as can be. Oh, he's been waiting for this meeting, that's for sure. "You're both tight-lipped and hard-headed idiots when it comes to sharing information." 

          "Explains a lot." Dante chuckles, scratching the back of his head as he faces Nero. "I guess I owe you an apology." 

          "Well, that depends." Nero says smoothly, shamelessly reminding Dante of his own cheek when they first met. "How long am I gonna have to wait for it?" 

          Dante huffs. "Long enough for me to do...." He trails off, moving more quickly than Nero can react and dragging him into a headlock to rub his knuckles into the kid's skull—to his great protest, of course. "This! Ah, nope! Relax and take it, because there's no escape for you." 

          For all his growling and fighting, Nero gets exactly nowhere. "Damn it! Stop. You're messing up my hair." 

          "Your hair is a mess anyway, kiddo, and you're covered in blood and demon guts." Dante releases him all at once, laughing when he tumbles sideways and flops gracelessly in a heap. "And, Nero?" 

          "What?" he grumbles, straightening out his hair. 

          Dante crouches, his playfulness fading as he smiles more sincerely. "I'm sorry." He helps Nero to his feet. "On that happy note, you-" The red twin offers V a hand as well. "Aren't leaving my sight until this mess is over. Maybe not even then. Capisce? " 

          "Capisco." Vergil reaches up to take his hand only to startle when dust drifts off his skin from the movement. "I'm running out of time." 

          "Okay, then." Dante takes the Sparda in hand, slinging it over his back and pulling V upright. "We'd better get going. Urizen ain't gonna wait around all day, and if we're going to put you back together, we'll need to beat him to do it." 

          "You couldn't the first time, Dante. What makes this different?" 

          Dante smirks. "I have an idea, and you're not gonna like it." 

          He doesn't even give V a chance to protest before sauntering toward the mouth of the cave, their hands still twined together with Nero trailing behind them. 

          By the time they find Trish, V no longer has the strength to run. "Dante-" 

          "I don't want to hear it, old man. Nero?" 

          "Yeah?" 

          Dante nods toward Trish where she lays. "Could you take care of her until she's well enough to join us? V and I gotta keep moving, but she'll be vulnerable here for a little while." 

          "Sure." Nero answers, keeping his eyes carefully averted from her naked body. Dante hadn't really expected him to agree so quickly, but maybe hanging out with Vergil's human half smoothed a few things over. "Don't make me come rescue your asses." 

          "Can do." Dante agrees, helping his brother onto Cavaliere and settling into the seat. He jumps when V's weight leans against his back, his oh-so proud brother making zero effort to sit up again. "Meet up as soon as you're done." 

          "Roger that." 

Chapter Text

          Urizen lays on his back on the blood-soaked earth, breaths wheezing out of him painfully. 

          Dante supports V as he approaches, worry panging through him with every trembling step. "All right, bud. It's all you from here, but you listen to me, all right? I meant what I told Urizen. That mom looked for you. That I did. So, just.... Don't forget, okay?" 

          Vergil smooths his thumb over Dante's knuckles before letting go. "You have my word." 

          "Good." 

          "You may want to step back with Nero." V manages, crawling his way onto Urizen's chest with no small amount of struggle. "I cannot promise there won't be some manner of... reaction." 

          Dante shakes his head. "I'm not going anywhere. Not this time." 

          The smile on V's face is momentary, replaced by determination as he mutters lines of poetry under his breath. Dante can't help his smile. Vergil's always so damn dramatic. It has to be genetic. 

          Also, "reaction" was an understatement. 

          Dante feels hands at his back as he blinks blue-white spots from his vision, Nero's hands, and he climbs to his feet. A touch of Quicksilver and Dante is back where he started, dragging his big brother against his chest. He expects to be stabbed for it. He expects to hear Vergil snarl his name with annoyance like he always used to. 

          He doesn't expect Vergil to hug him back. 

          Vergil grips him tight, allowing himself to be pulled down when Dante's newfound strength fails him. He cradles his little brother's head protectively, his chin resting on top of Dante's hair. It's been decades since he and Dante were this close to one another without a sword through the other's chest. Vergil soothes his brother when his shoulders shake. 

          "Vergil." 

          "I'm here, Dante. I won't leave you again." He meets his son's eyes over Dante's head. "Nero." 

          He fidgets. "Yeah?" 

          "Come here." 

          Nero joins their embrace somewhat awkwardly, but Dante makes him welcome with a wet chuckle, squeezing the boy in between them.  

          They break apart only by necessity, retreating to the nearest exit from the tree and staring over the cracking abyss. Dark clouds roil from the roots, beckoning forth the underworld's forces with the taste of free air. 

          "You remember the plan, Nero?" Vergil asks, his voice soft. 

          "Yeah, I remember. Doesn't mean I have to like it. You guys promise you're coming back?" 

          Dante ruffles his hair. "Promise, kiddo." 

          With pride in his gaze, Vergil tips his head to Nero. "You have my word, but if that does not comfort you," He takes Nero's right hand, turning his palm over to place his favored book in it. "Watch over this for me. May it remind you that you are not alone." 

          Nero stares down at the book, tears welling up in his eyes at the same time the ridges of his devil breaker begin glowing and cracking apart. His hand, human and whole, holds his father's most prized possession aside from the Yamato. Overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of recent events, Nero can't stop the helpless sob in his throat. He just got his family back, and now they're disappearing again. 

          Vergil tips his chin up with one finger, icy eyes softening on him. "Be brave, my nestling. We will return." 

          The kid flushes red to the tips of his ears, furiously wiping tears out of his eyes like it'll hide just how much the promise means to him. "I'll hold you to that." 

          "Please, do." 

          "We're counting on you, kiddo." Dante squeezes Nero's shoulder, a genuine smile on his face. "Be safe." 

          As they part ways, Nero holds Vergil's book close to his chest. "You, too."