Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was over.

Finally, she could catch her breath. Her heart was still pounding at a frantic pace, her fingers tightly clutched the empty gun, feeling all the dents and cracks left by someone's careless hand. Too bad, the adrenaline effect was wearing off and her body was starting to remember not the softest landing it had experienced earlier.

No, she definitely won't leave her bed tomorrow. Saving the world turned out to be a rather unhealthy job.

Mary winced, trying to relax in vain. Fuck, she hadn't sign up for this!

What if her hand had trembled? What if she had hesitated even for a moment? Dante would've been a goner, dooming their world as well.

Stupid demonic dumbass. Why does he always walk on the edge?

She chuckled. A bit hypocritical of her, as if she herself hadn't done stupid things that she didn't even know she was capable of.

And yet, tonight, the gap between them became clearer than ever. She saw him. The Demon himself.

Crowned with branching horns. Steel claws adorned his arms and legs. Flaming veins ran across the scaly body, hidden only by his wings. A mysterious golden shimmer blinded her with every move.

Mary couldn't see his face, but she heard his thunderous cry. Was that— creature really him?

No wonder he freaked out after his first transformation.

She watched his final fight with the Rabbit, almost hypnotized, too afraid to look away even for a moment. But when the scarlet curtain fell and the twilight enveloped her in a comfortable darkness, to her own surprise, Mary could no longer look at the bridge.

What's gotten into her? She’d never taken herself for a coward. Besides, being afraid of Dante? This puppy eyed man with the most pathetic attempts at humor she had ever heard? No, she knew better.

Despite his outrageous form, the essence was the same. A big naive softie she struggled to deal with.

Shaking off her anxiety, Mary raised her head. Only to meet an unblinking stare.

Her battle-hardened body responded immediately, yelling SOS to her brain. Run, stupid, run, this enemy is too tough for you!

But it was too late. The predator swooped down on its prey. And she continued to stare, mesmerized by the majestic dance of wings, even as the hot air touched her skin.

He seemed smaller at the former distance. The stupidest thought flashed through her mind as a huge shadow blocked the light.

“Lady…”

Another clap of thunder. His raspy voice was difficult to follow, nothing in common with Dante's soft tone.

“Ar-re you in one piece?”

Mary blinked. The line didn't fit the picture at all.

Her gaze lingered on the clawed hand extended towards her, then slowly slid up to meet the glowing yellow orbs again.

“Hey, don't be afraid—”

And then she finally recognized him. Mary watched him enough to know: every time Dante tried to hide behind a cool facade, his eyes darted slightly, a crooked smile froze on his lips.

However, it was so uncanny to see the well-known expression on this alien, inhuman face. In search of further evidence, Mary narrowed her eyes trying to discern the familiar sparkle of blue behind the still golden glow.

To her surprise, she suddenly realized that their roles had been reversed. A shadow of discomfort fell on Dante's face, and even though he still towered over her, he suddenly seemed somehow smaller. The clawed paw trembled just slightly as he tried to withdraw it.

What an idiot.

Mentally cursing them both, Mary grabbed his hand tightly.

“Don't quote the Bible at me, smartass,” she smirked, trying her best to ignore that his hand was three times her size in this form. “You don't look cryptic enough to pass for an angel.”

“I can be your devil,” he retorted in a bizarre attempt to wink, a clear relief in his voice.

But still, as he effortlessly lifted her to her feet, she felt how much he avoided touching her bare skin with his claws. Carefully, as if he were holding a porcelain vase. Too afraid of breaking it at any moment.

It pissed her off for no reason.

“Now what? Are you stuck in this form?” Mary raised her brow, trying to balance on her injured leg.

“Not really,” Dante's wings flattered as he moved closer to her, so she could lean on him. “In fact, I'm barely keeping it together.”

“You better turn it off, if you don't want to hit the news. It's almost dawn. And journalists are probably already following our trail.”

Brushing off his gentlemanliness, Mary made a big step forward, but her body punished her determination immediately. The leg went into spasm and she staggered.

But Dante was already by her side.

“Hey, don't be so stubborn and let me help you!”
“Back off! I'm fine! And stop pressing me with your demon form! Are you doing it on purpose?!”
“Doing what?!”
“Towering over me! You were already tall before, wasn't that enough?!”
“Is that what you’re mad about?!”

A soft chuckle followed. And then a roar of laughter filled the air. Mary blinked again, not believing her eyes.

A devil may laugh. Wholeheartedly.

“Just drop it already,” she groaned, trying to fight her own smile. “I don't want to be on the front page either, 'caught on a date with a demon' or whatever crap they’ll write.”

Maybe she was too tired to think rationally.

“Lucky us, I know a perfect place to hide and continue our date. The sunrise gazing comes as a bonus.”

This time she didn't get an opportunity to protest. Only a gasp escaped her lips, as Mary suddenly found herself placed in the care of his hands again, in an awkward princess position.

“Hold on tight, the flight will be short!”
“Hey, what the— W-wait!”

Feeling the air pressure, she shut her eyes in panic, clinging closer to his chest. It was warm. The demon's skin was rough against her hand, but she found an odd feeling of comfort in it. Her fingers traced the golden veins blindly, a pleasant electric sensation echoing across her skin.

“Earth to Lady!” his roaring voice snapped her out of the trance. “Don't tickle me! I told you, I can barely control my Devil Trigger! You don't want to end up as a pretty stain, don't you?!”

Trying to hide her embarrassment, Mary shook her head and deadpanned:

“I'll just use you as my airbag then.”
“Not the first time, huh.”

She wanted to parry, but the new view caught her off guard. The sun rose over New York, painting the sky in soft pastel colors. Sunshine rays were slowly filling the city, which was just beginning to wake up from a restless slumber. The chaos on the roads and clouds of smoke and dust remained the only reminders of the night horrors.

“So peaceful,” she muttered, still not believing that an hour ago they barely prevented an apocalypse.

“Yeah.”

Dante's answer felt short, a shadow of his former carelessness. Mary casted a quick glance at him and bit her lip. She knew that face of regrets. It mirrored her perfectly.

“This is the world he wanted to protect,” he whispered quietly, as if talking to himself.

“And this is the world you saved today,” she nodded, looking into his face.

She wanted to say more. That his parents would be proud of him. That Enzo's death wasn't his fault. That everything that manipulative bastard Rabbit had said about him was a lie.

Similar words she craved. But Mary knew better than to lick each other's wounds. Not when some of them would never heal.

So she just focused on the landscapes. Only to realize that Dante flies in circles on purpose so she can enjoy the scenery.

What a show-off.

She chuckled and placed her head on his chest again. Just living in the moment. Running away from all the hard decisions. For now.

Chapter Text

"Dante!”

He’d never been a fan of books. That was Vergil's thing. Unlike his brother, Dante had neither the time nor the patience to sit still and immerse himself in imaginary worlds. Especially when their own world tempted him with new adventures.

But when the sun started its rapid descent into the horizon, when the cuts and scrapes on his knees healed, when his nose, broken once again by Vergil, stopped bleeding, when even his endless energy faded away... Dante loved to listen to stories.

Luckily, their mother was the best storyteller. Years later, Dante realized that it was probably Eva’s trick to introduce him to the literary heritage. To bridge the gap in the twins' knowledge, which threatened to become an insurmountable chasm.

Little Dante remained clueless. While Vergil fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, his younger brother stubbornly waited for his bedtime story, peppering their mom with questions about battles and weapons. But sometimes Eva got tired of such a narrow focus and tried to tell something different. Something that would help her restless son grow into a decent person.

He still remembered fragments of these cautionary tales. Every time Dante found himself at the crossroads, unsure of what to choose, his brain automatically run through these blurry memories, searching for reliable instructions. Adjusting his moral compass.

No wonder, that the sound of a painfully familiar voice pulled a string of his memories. Dante froze, holding his breath. Not daring to turn around. Curiosity killed a cat.

He remembered the parable of the girl who looked back and turned into a salt pillar. He remembered the tale of the man who turned around and lost the love of his life.

In his case—

“Dante!”

Which will it be?

He wished for a simple bullet. Between the eyes. It wasn't new. It was common. Painful but predictable on her part. Safe. For both of them.

Too bad, she never played by his rules.

“Where do you think you're going?!” her stern tone cracked in the middle, making his heart skip a bit.

He heard her perfectly. A plea veiled in demand.

“Lady,” he finally breathed out.

But he was still motionless. His eyes — focused on the shimmering crack before him. The gate to another world. And on the other side, he could almost swear, a tall shadow reached for the blade.

Recognizing the glint of metal, Dante acted instinctively.

Pain, anger, irritation, resentment — he gave in to the wreck of emotions. An uncontrollable wave covered him, bursting out with a dull roar, and the world around got smaller in an instant. That was the fastest way. To shed human skin and become a monster.

A demon who was strong. A demon whose blood was boiling too much to hesitate.

The next moment he took off. The chaos of sharpened senses led him blindly. Following the sweet, intoxicating smell of blood, he hearkened to the hoarse, abrupt breathing, the frantic heartbeat set his rhythm.

Further into the darkness, away from the portal!

Her wrists seemed even thinner than he remembered as they crashed into the wall.
The gun that had fallen from her grip cracked pitifully under his foot.Trembling, he spread his wings, covering her entire body, away from prying eyes. And only then, barely controlling himself, did he lock his gaze with hers.

Part of him hoped for fear, but she bathed him in rage.

“What the fuck, Dante?!” Lady hissed, biting her lip to suppress pain.

He almost mirrored her for other reasons. The tantalizing scent was getting irresistible. He couldn't ignore a deep cut that crossed the bridge of her nose. The bleeding wouldn't stop. But she paid no attention, too busy burning a hole in his skull.

Stubborn as always. Never knowing when to quit.

“So you remember my name,” he shook his head, trying to focus. “I thought you liked Tony better.”

She winced at his sarcasm, but didn't say anything. Only her eyebrows rose slightly.

“And now you wonder where am I going?” his quiet, venomous voice suddenly broke into a roar. “Back to Hell! Where I've always belonged! Where at least no one will use me as a guinea pig after I saved their ass!”

Because they got more traditional methods to be cruel.

“I never wanted—”

A shadow fell on Lady's face, as she struggled to continue.

He hated to see her like this. Guilty. Miserable.

But he had to break her. For her own good.

“Still, you let it happen.”

In the end, Dante hadn't lied to her. All the words he'd said had been on his mind for a while. But if his human heart could accept the moments of weakness, the demon wouldn't spare any sympathy.

Something shifted in her gaze. Just a second of vulnerability. And then anger took over again.

“I know! I fucked up, okay?!” her eyes pierced him back in fury. “Now would you stop getting off from tormenting me and care about bigger problems for once!”
“You suck at apologizing, don't you?”
“Try to do better, when someone is about to join a psycho murderer on my watch!”

Now that's a low blow.

He bared his teeth, violating what little personal space remained between them.

“Sure, because only the righteous killers from Darkcom are allowed to use me,” he whispered in her ear, barely containing the urge to bite it. “The ones like you, Bloody Mary.”

He hit the spot. She was crumbling again. He could see it in the lump in her throat, she tried to swallow in vain. In the goosebumps that covered her pale skin. In the abrupt heaving of her chest.

But when Dante tore himself away, abandoning the tempting softness of her neck, he saw neither fear nor hatred. Only deep sorrow in her eyes.

“Say what you want about me, but just—” Lady took another deep breath and locked her gaze with his. “Don't make my mistakes. Don't follow him blindly. Even if he's your only family left, please…”

She stumbled over a foreign word, but the remnants of pride gave way to sincerity.

“Please, for your own sake, don't close your eyes on his deeds.”

With simple words they've swapped their places.

Losing control, the demon grumbled.

She has no right to teach him things. To pry into his family affairs. It's his problem!

But Dante only shook his head.

“I could never. Not when it's right in front of me.”

If only they were normal… a couple of ordinary human beings without the insane powers and burden of trauma. He would cup her face, tracing a tiny tear from the corner of her eye. He would nuzzle their noses, whispering cheesy nothings against her stubborn lips. He would hold her tightly unafraid of crashing her bones.

But instead of sweet dream, Dante tasted blood on his lips. A salty flavor. But that didn't stop him, nor did her surprised gasp. The cut was deep. No, there was no way to avoid a scar. All he could do was stop the bleeding.

And leave his scent on her. Vergil had a habit to put his initials everywhere since he was a child, now it was his turn. So that he wouldn't dare again. So that no one would ever dare touch her.

If only his efforts could protect her. Eva was the wife of the great Sparda, but that didn't stop anyone. And who is he? A mere half-demon. Pathetic. Powerless.

Vergil was right. He needs more—

“Dante!” flushed, Lady panted under him. “Stop! What the hell?!”

He blinked and pulled away from her. Her blood on his tongue. Her cheeks red. Unlike the bridge of her nose, now cleaned from any red traces.

Ohhh, he got carried away.

How much time had passed anyway? He had to get back quickly. Make sure the Lady won't follow him. Damn it, he'd ruined everything!

“I'm talking to you, Hellblood! Let me go!”

Dante blinked again, touching his cheek. Did she just—

“Did you just spit on me?!”
“Oh, that's what's bothering you?! You slobbered all over my face, you bastard!”
“I just licked your wound!”
“Gross! I didn't ask for it!”
“And that's why you decided to mark me back as a revenge!”

He barely avoided her kick, trying his best not to laugh. It seemed that frustration had given her a second wind. Flushed and feisty. He made sure to memorize the view.

Because it was time to part their ways for real.

Dante losened his grip and with a growl Lady dropped to the floor. But she quickly rose to her feet, jumping as far away from him as possible. Her eyes immediately scanned the room, but there was nothing she could use as a weapon against him.

Nothing to stop him either.

“Joke's over,” Dante concluded, turning his back on her. “Now go back and try not to get yourself killed on the way.”

“Don't give me that crap!” she cursed, making a step towards him. “Did you just ignore everything I said?!”

This is going nowhere. Dante sighed. He didn't want to do this.

“Actually, I took a good lesson from you.”

She was tiny. So small compared to his demonic proportions. Her mismatched eyes, angry and confused, before they closed. Catching her numbing body in his arms, he really hoped he had calculated his strength correctly.

But even almost unconscious, her hand suddenly grabbed his clawed finger. To tear it off or to never let go.

Maybe both.

Dante couldn't fight a bitter smile. He didn't know if she heard him, but still whispered softly:

“Farewell, Lady. It was fun, when it was real.”

***

“You took awfully long, Dante.”

Predictably, he wasn't given a warm welcome on the other side. Vergil's hand rested on the hilt of his blade. His fingers tapped out a barely audible rhythm. Impatiently.

“Huh, sorry, brother, time flies differently in the human world.”

Dante shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. His whole body still felt weird after deactivating his Devil Trigger. As if his demonic form was starting to feel more familiar to him than his human one.

Now he could even breathe freely, filling his lungs with toxic air. Which he wasn't really thrilled about.

“I assume, you faced a hindrance during your departure,” Vergil muttered, studying his face intently. “The Sapien woman.”

“What about her?” Dante asked lazily, walking past him to avoid further interrogation. “I took care of it.”

But before he could take a distance, he heard the clank of scabbard.

“Such a confidence would be acceptable if only she were dead, Dante.”

He turned around just to see Vergil, unsheathing his katana.

“If your attachment gets in the way, then I have to—”

He didn't let him finish.

“Don't you dare!”

For a second he saw red. The next moment he recognized his arm, half-transformed, squeezing Vergil's throat. Rebellion pierced the wall, almost grazing his twin's face.

Vergil, absolutely unfazed, stared at him back, a shadow of a smile on his lips.

“Interesting.”

With a perfect swing, he slashed Dante's arm. Dante stumbled in surprise, blood covering his vision, and at that very moment he felt Yamato's cold blade on his neck.

“But without strength your words have no power.”

“I don't touch your things and you don't touch mine!”

Gritting his teeth, Dante grabbed the katana with his bare hand, pushing it back. Leaving a bloody trail on the floor until he reached the hilt. Then he glared into the mirror again.

“Got it, Vergil?!”

A strange glint flashed in his brother's eyes, but he didn't move a single step, even as Dante's blood stained his hands. Instead he just observed:

“I see, you still honor the rules set by our late mother.”

A dangerous chill run down Dante's spine. But he bit his tongue to not escalate the situation further.

Shaking off the blood, Vergil let the sword slip back into its sheath. Then he started walking, without sparing him a look. But his quiet voice easily reached Dante's ears:

“As a gift for our heartfelt reunion I’ll let you have it your way.”

Sighing heavily, Dante cast one last glancd at the portal. Somewhere there he had left the girl with the mismatched eyes.

“In the end, you always broke what's yours without much of my intervention.”

Her bloodied face. The taste of blood. Chasing away the vision, Dante staggered to his feet. His face was grimm. 

“I know it, brother. I know it all too well.”