Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mel startles awake by someone knocking on the front door. The hell? Her attention first turns to her newborn, who sleeps in the crib right next to her bed. She listens for any signs of him waking up. The seconds tick by, but he makes no signs of stirring. Another knock hits the front door, this one more insistent. I swear to God, if they wake the baby…

She slips out of bed and makes for the living room, as quietly but quickly as she can manage. And who the hell is knocking at this time of night?! Sister Oliva, her landlady of sorts, would never be up at this hour, and no one else in town talks to her outside of necessity. Mel rubs her eyes, navigating through the living room by memory; she won’t risk turning on the light. Biting back a curse, she fumbles for the lock before cracking open the door. “Hello?”

There’s only one dim light above the stairs that lead to her apartment. It illuminates the man at her door barely enough for Mel to make out his features. His age is tricky to guess, but she surmises he’s at least a decade or so older than her. He has reddish brown hair which goes a bit past his ears, his face covered by a beard of similar color. He wears the usual pristine white garb the rest of the islanders wear, but much of it is hidden beneath a heavy coat. His brown eyes search Mel’s, near frantic in either panic or worry… or maybe both. “I’m so sorry for coming to you this late. Are you Melanie?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because you are in danger, and you need to leave the island tonight.”

Mel normally would call bullshit, except that she knows the Order has been following her for months. She hasn’t been able to figure out why. But her gut tells her to listen to this guy. Most of the people in Fortuna don’t bother with outsiders unless strictly necessary. That this man would show up in the middle of the night and pound on her door like this, warning her to get away, speaks to dire straits she must be in. “Why? What is the Order planning to do?”

The man glances behind him. “Forgive me, but may I come in? I don’t want to chance being overheard. I’m already risking everything by doing this.”

That sets off a few alarms in her head, but she has little choice. I should have grabbed my gun. Mel nods hesitantly before stepping back and opening the door to let him in. Just need to keep a clear path between me and the bedroom. Hopefully I can at least outrun him…

He ducks inside and pushes the door close. “So you know the Order has its eyes on you.”

“They haven’t exactly been subtle.”

“No. I suspect they believe you haven’t noticed, or that you think they’re watching you because you’re an outsider.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

The man breathes out a sigh through his nose. “I genuinely don’t know the details as to why, but they aren’t after you.” His eyes dart to the bedroom.

“My-” Mel sucks in a breath, cold fear clawing through her insides. “Why him? He’s just a baby!”

“They know what he is, what his lineage is. You spent time with Sparda’s son-”

“How do you know that?! He never spoke with any of you!”

“He didn’t need to. We have numerous paintings and drawings of Sparda in his human form, and he is a spitting image of his father. Besides, he was spotted fighting demons. No human has the capability and power he has.”

She had never considered that. She remembers the painting they found in that vault, near a year ago now. But she never put it together that the Order would have that much information on Sparda. “Oh god. I shouldn’t have stayed.” Mel digs her fingers into her hair, pulling at it in panic. “I tried to leave earlier, but there were no boats going to the mainland. I’m going to leave tomorrow night-”

“It’ll be too late. They’re coming for you tomorrow afternoon.” The man backpedals until he reaches one of the windows. He looks out it, likely looking for anyone watching the place. “That’s why you must go tonight. Right now.”

“But if there aren’t any-”

“I will find you a boat that will take you tonight. But we need to hurry, while no one is watching the apartment.” He motions for her to go. “Pack your things. I will watch the streets.”

Please don’t let this be a trap. Mel has little choice but to trust him. She hurries into the bedroom, leaving the door mostly shut behind her.

Fortunately, she had already packed everything but the essentials. Packing in the dark isn’t exactly easy; she only has the moon and the street lamps outside to give her any light. She keeps glancing at the crib, listening for signs of her son waking up. Her thoughts turn to her clothes. I’m not gonna try getting dressed properly in the dark. My pajama pants are warm enough.

As she shoves the rest of her clothes into her bag, her fingers brush against her gun. She pulls it out and checks the chamber. It’s full, to her relief. She tucks it into a front pocket on her bag, then shoves some of her maps around it to hide it. That should be all of my stuff.

Her coat hangs on the back of the desk chair. She grabs it and yanks it on, zipping it almost all the way up before she grabs her bag and shoulders it. That just leaves one last thing.

Mel peers into the crib. That blanket alone won’t be enough. It’s cold out there. She glances at the bed. That one is kinda big, but… fuck it. She pulls on the blanket, bunching it up. Okay. Please, please, please do not wake up. The thought of bringing the baby out into the cold like this goes against every instinct, but this may very well be a matter of life and death. Sorry, sunshine. She plucks him from the crib, keeping him as still as she can as she lays him down on the blanket. She bundles the blanket around him and picks him up, holding him close to her. So far he remains asleep, but she’s not counting on that to last. Time to go.

Mel returns to the living room and finds the man keeping vigil, eyes glued to the street outside. He only looks up when she approaches. “Is he still asleep?”

“For now.”

“We best hurry then. I hope you have everything.”

“The important stuff. Anything I’m missing can be replaced.”

He nods. “Then let’s go. It’s a long walk to the docks.”

A long walk is made even longer, thanks to the Order’s holy knights patrolling the town. The man leads them down side streets and alleys to avoid the patrols. This would be anxiety-inducing enough on a warm night and with no baby in tow. With the temperature hovering above freezing and a newborn that is slowly waking up, Mel’s nerves are nearly frayed.

“Shh shh shh,” she whispers to her son as he starts to fuss. “Just a little longer…”

“We’re not too far.” The man peeks around the corner of a building. “Just another block or two.” He digs into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief wrapped around something. He unwraps it to reveal a pacifier. “Don’t worry, I washed it. It was my son’s from when he was an infant. I wasn’t sure if you had one for yours. It’ll at least keep him calm and quiet for a few minutes.”

Taking an old, used pacifier probably doesn’t rank high on the list of smart things for a new mom to do, but again, life or death situation, etcetera, etcetera. “Oh. Thank you.” Mel shifts the baby to hold him with one arm while she takes the pacifier from the man. She holds it to his mouth, encouraging him to take it. He resists for a moment, but eventually he gives in and sucks on it.

The man gestures for her to follow, citing the coast is clear. Mel holds back a shiver as she follows. Her hands are slowly going numb from the cold; what she wouldn’t give for a pair of gloves right now. Or a hat. Or a scarf. I hope the boat is warm. But as long as the baby’s warm, I’ll deal with it. She shoves her hands into the blanket as best she can and hopes that’ll last her long enough.

There’s nothing but the sound of their footsteps echoing off the pavement as the pair navigate through the dockside part of town. Mel glances at every building, half-expecting a holy knight to pop out and grab them. Every shadow makes her jumpy, every unexplained sound sets her nerves alight. Keep calm. Getting tense will only make him upset. The pacifier is buying them time, but he gets more restless with each passing minute. Just a little longer…

Barely visible in the dark horizon is the top of a massive merchant vessel. Mel heaves out a sigh of relief at the sight. Her male companion dips down a side street, glancing behind him to make sure Mel still follows him. “The knights will be guarding the main entrance,” he whispers as they weave around some houses. “But there’s a small service road we can use.”

They come upon it quickly. He makes sure the road is clear before he guides Mel down along. It leads to the far end of the dock, well out of sight of the holy knights milling about. Moored to one of the docks is a small vessel; Mel assumes it’s a trade ship of some sort, as she doesn’t see any fishing gear, and it’s way too utilitarian to be a leisure boat. The man leads them to the dock and says in a slightly raised voice, “Porter!”

A door opens. There are heavy footsteps on the deck, and then a stocky man appears from the starboard side. “Cleon? The hell-”

“Forgive me, friend, but I need you to take this young woman and her child to Karamina Port. The sooner, the better.”

“You realize it’s almost 3 AM?”

“I do. And you know I’m not so unreasonable as to ask this if it weren’t necessary.”

“Hmm.” Porter peers at Mel. “Trying to escape the Order, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“This isn’t gonna come cheap.”

“I have money in my bag-”

Cleon shakes his head. “I will pay for this. You will need your money to get home.”

She’s taken aback by this man’s kindness. First he risks his life to help her escape, and now he pays for her way back. She hates that she has no way of repaying him for all this. “I… thank you.”

Porter chuckles and shakes his head. “You’ve always been a soft touch. C’mon miss, hop aboard. You can crash in my cabin.”

“Okay.” Mel knows she can’t dawdle, but she won’t leave just yet, not before she can ask Cleon, “Why did you help me? I’m grateful, and I won’t ever forget this, but…”

“My conscience demanded it. While I would gladly give whatever the Order asks for, it should not force anything from those who are not willing. And your son is of the Savior’s blood. We should be protecting him, not… well, whatever it is they want to do. Normally I would not doubt them, but with how secretive His Holiness has been about it…” He shakes his head. “I will not burden you with my troubles. Just get someplace far away and don’t come back. It will never be safe for him here. The Order’s reach does not extend far past Karamina Port, so the faster you leave there, the safer you will both be.”

“I will. Thank you. You probably just saved my life, and spared him from… I don’t even want to know.” Mel nods to him before she turns and climbs onto the boat, its captain helping her up. He walks off to settle the matter of payment with her rescuer. She glances behind her one last time, watching the men speak in low tones. Please don’t let him get caught doing this.

Porter climbs up the boat, waving to Cleon before turning to Mel. “Best get below deck, miss,” he says, shoving the money into his coat pocket. “I’m sure your little one will be getting hungry, and we’ve got an hour between here and the port.”

“Right.” Mel holds her baby close, following the captain as he shows her where to go. They trek below deck, which consists of little else besides storage and the captain’s cabin. He swings open the door for her, and she’s immediately met with a rush of warm air. She breathes out a sigh of relief as she takes a seat on his bed. Porter shuts the door behind him, leaving her and the baby alone. “We made it.”

She unwraps the baby from his blanket cocoon. He fusses something fierce, spitting out the pacifier as he wails. Mel scoots back on the bed, unzipping her coat and shoving down her shirt to free a breast for him. “Thanks for waiting until we made it someplace safe.” She holds him close, gently maneuvering him until he finds her breast and begins drinking.

The boat shudders to life. Thankfully the baby hardly minds, too focused on his meal. Mel leans back against the pillows, closing her eyes as the boat begins to pull away from the dock. “Things are going to be hectic for the next couple days, so let’s enjoy the quiet while we can.” It’s a long journey to Capulet City, and she won’t be able to entirely relax until they get there and find Dante. But first, she needs to get to Karamina Port, catch the train to the nearest airport, and get away from this part of the world as fast as possible.

Mel knows she’s dodged a bullet, all thanks to the kindness of a stranger who put doing what’s right over following the rules. But what she’ll never know is that what she avoided was something far, far worse than death.

“Next stop, Capulet City. Next stop, Capulet City. All departing passengers should gather their belongings and be prepared to exit the train.”

Mel inhales deeply, steeling her nerves. “That’s us, sunshine.”

Her son sleeps in the used car seat she bought for him back in Karamina Port. The extra expense was worth the investment, because traveling to the other side of the world with a newborn is enough of a nightmare without having to carry him in her arms constantly. Thankfully, Porter gave her some extra money to help out. I guess being a young blonde with a baby brings out the sympathy in men.

She grabs her bag, slinging it over her shoulder before picking up the car seat. She watches the other passengers, waiting to see what side of the train they’re getting off on. She crowds in with everyone else, the car seat buying her a bit of extra room. Most of the departing passengers ignore her, too focused on the newspapers in their hands or putting away their portable CD or cassette players. A few do smile and wave at the baby, even though he’s sleeping and isn’t old enough to even recognize what they’re doing. People just can’t seem to help themselves.

The train’s brakes screech as they slow to a stop. The doors slowly slide open, the mechanism groaning from age and lack of maintenance. Mel exits the train with the rest of the crowd, following along as they move as a mass towards the station exit. Thankfully, the layout isn’t terribly complicated, and within a minute, Mel’s out of the station and standing in downtown Capulet City.

Or what’s left of downtown Capulet City.

The site of colossal wreckage greets Mel, accompanied by major construction equipment. Workers haul away debris, frantically trying to clear off the roads. Mel’s mouth drops as she takes in the sight. “Holy shit. What happened?”

“Did you like, actually not hear about it?” A young woman about her age rocking a softcore grunge look raises a skeptical brow. “Where’ve you been, under a rock?”

“Out of the country.”

“Oh.” The girl shrugs. “Some tower came out of the ground last week. Lots of people died and half of downtown got wrecked.”

“A… tower?”

“It’s on the news if you don’t believe me. Some people swore there were demons or something.” The girl digs into her purse and pulls out a stick of gum. “But the really eerie thing? The tower just collapsed a couple hours later. And it’s not like the army blew it up or anything. It just went splat for no reason.”

…Vergil. It has to be. Mel goes back to watching the construction workers haul out the wreckage. So much for it not being anywhere near people. And looks like you definitely didn’t bother to contain anything. Not that he promised he would, but she had hoped he would at least try. “That’s pretty crazy,” she half-heartedly replies.

“Yeah, so like, if you need to travel ‘round the city a lot, good luck.”

That’s going to depend entirely on where Dante is. Now that she thinks about it, her next step is to find him. “Um, by the way… do you know a guy named Dante?”

“Dante? What is he, some old Italian dork?”

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Mel waves good-bye as she embarks down the road that leads into the city. At least, the only road that’s clear. Ugh. It’s gonna be hard enough finding this guy without being impeded by all this rubble clogging up the roads. She has no idea where to start. She only knows he lives here and is a mercenary. If she can find someone who knows about the local mercs, they’ll probably be able to point her to Dante. It’s just a matter of finding the right person.

“C’mon, sunshine. Let’s find your uncle.”

The morning drags on into afternoon, and Mel is no closer to finding Dante.

She all but collapses into a booth at the diner she came across during her search. She’s exhausted, and the baby has finally fallen asleep. Now’s her chance to get some food in her and rest while he’s out. Her walking around all day screwed up his schedule something fierce, and he’s been especially cranky.

Mel leans her head into her hands while she waits for her server. This is a nightmare. I’m nowhere near finding Dante, and I’m running low on money. I don’t even know where we’re going to spend the night. She hopes there are decent shelters around here, because there’s no way she’s gonna be able to afford a hotel. This could be a very long search.

A waitress stops by her table, wearing a tired smile as she hands Mel a menu. “Hey hun. What can I get you to drink?”

“A glass of water and coffee, please.”

“Sure thing.” She pauses and smiles at the baby. “How old is he?”

“A week.”

“Congrats! What a handsome little man.”

Mel smiles, despite her exhaustion and frustration. “Thank you. Um, by the way, do you happen to know anyone named Dante?”

“No, name doesn’t sound familiar. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Worth a shot.”

The waitress leaves to get Mel’s drinks. Mel flips open the menu and begins perusing it. A lot jumps out at her, but her near empty wallet limits her choices severely. I could probably swing getting a soup and salad. Maybe they’ll have a good special for soup-

“Mind if I join you?”

Mel blinks and looks up, half-expecting to be mistaken in thinking someone is talking to her. But no, someone is, in fact, addressing her. A black man stands by her table, snappily dressed and wearing a friendly smile. What is it with older men coming up to me out of the blue lately? She’s one for one on trusting them, so she decides to test her luck and says, “Um… sure, I guess.” Her bag’s next to her, and the gun is within easy reach if need be. They’re also in a public place, so there isn’t much he could do without immediately drawing attention.

“Thank you.” He sits across from her, leaning back casually against the worn cushioned seat. “I know this seems rather strange, and normally I wouldn’t make a habit of unsettling a lone young woman like this. But I was over at a nearby table and I couldn’t help but overhear you asking about a man named Dante.”

“Yeah. You know him?”

“I do.”

Mel reins in her excitement. She’s traveled around enough to know that a ‘lone young woman’, as he put it, makes for an easy mark. “That’d be a hell of a stroke of luck for me. How do you know him?”

The man quirks his lips into an amused half-smile. “Smart. And that’s good, you shouldn’t just take me at my word.” He holds out a hand to her. “But let’s start with introductions. My name’s Morrison.”

Mel cautiously shakes his hand. “I’m Melanie.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, miss.” Morrison gives her hand a firm shake. “Now, as to your question: through our respective jobs. I’ve known him for a couple of years now. I’m an information broker, and ‘round these parts, the best use for that is digging up info and jobs for the local mercs. I used to toss Dante jobs. In fact, I hope I can continue to as he gets his business up off the ground.”

“Is he not doing mercenary work anymore?”

“He is, it’s just of a more… specialized variety.”

Mel weighs her options. She suspects she knows what that specialty is, but how much does he know? She doesn’t want to frighten him, or more likely, make him think she’s crazy.

The waitress drops by with Mel’s drinks. She sets down the water before she grabs the coffee cup and puts it down right next to it. As she pours out some coffee for Mel, she shoots a look at Morrison and says, “Decided you want company today, huh?”

“I just so happen to be able to help this young lady with what she’s looking for. Or who, really.”

“Why am I not surprised? Heck, I should have thought of pointing her to you, but I guess your nosiness did the work for me.” She chuckles and glances at Mel. “He’ll talk your ear off if you’re not careful. Did you figure out what’d you like to eat?”

“Their fried chicken special is the best you’ll find around here,” Morrison chimes in.

God that does sound good. Mel flips through the menu until she finds it, her eyes lit up. But her hope immediately dies when she sees the price. “I’m sure it is, but that’s a bit too much to swing. I’ll just take a soup and salad-”

“Lorraine, get this young lady some fried chicken. My treat,” Morrison adds when Mel opens her mouth to protest. “You look exhausted, Melanie. I think you’ll need a bit more than some soup and salad to get you on your feet. Besides, if you’re going to talk to Dante, you’ll need the energy. Trust me.”

Lorraine nods and winks at Mel. “He’s good for it, hun. And I take it you want the usual, J.D?”

Morrison winces. “You know I hate it when you call me that. But yes, please.”

“Got it. Let me go put this in.”

Mel feels tears starting to well up. She forces them back down. People really can be great. If only Vergil could see this, the pessimist. “You really don’t have to do that…” she says to Morrison.

“I insist. And honestly…” His voice drops to a whisper. “The chicken’s great, but the salad? I wouldn’t trust it. The last thing you need is food poisoning.”

“Good to know.” Mel reclines back, letting the cushion take her weight. “Anyway… specialized mercenary work, huh?” She, too, lowers her voice. “Don’t suppose it has to do with more… otherworldly things?”

Morrison lifts a brow. “Well. It seems you do know a thing or two.” He nods to her. “Now, he technically isn’t yet open, but if you really need something, I can try and-”

“Oh. Oh oh, no, no.” Mel shakes her head. “I’m not looking to hire him. I need to talk to him. It’s… personal. And urgent.”

He stares at her for a long moment, his smile fading into a pensive frown. As he tries to figure her out, his gaze falls on the baby, still asleep. He leans forward to get a better look at him. Suddenly he bites out a curse. “Don’t tell me that idiot-”

“Ah, no. I… totally get why you’re thinking that, though.” The lighting in here makes the baby’s silver hair all too apparent. “It’s not quite that, but it does have to do with my little boy here.”

His frown deepens. “Miss Melanie, I understand if you’re not comfortable sharing the details with me, but he does bear a striking resemblance to Dante.”

“…you’re not entirely wrong.” Mel breathes out a shaky sigh. “Do you know much about Dante, besides what he does? Anything about his past?”

“He’s not real chatty about that sort of thing. I know about his… parentage. And that he has a-” Morrison’s train of thought crashes to a halt as the truth dawns on him. His eyes widen in shock. “…a twin brother.”

“A twin brother who I know he has a bad history with. But also a twin brother who is in a lot of trouble. Morrison, I really need to talk to Dante. I get that this might not go over well with him, but it’s too important to not try.”

Morrison rubs a hand over his face before he leans back and shouts, “Lorraine, could you bring me some coffee, too? The strongest blend you’ve got.” He closes his eyes and mutters, “Lord help me, I’m going to need it for this family shitstorm I’m about to step into.”

Morrison spares Mel further expense by driving her to Dante’s place. With the city in such bad shape, it takes them over an hour to get to where they need to go, even though Dante’s shop is less than six miles away. They can’t even pull right up to it; the debris scattered about makes it so they have to park about a half mile down the road and walk the rest of it. Mel’s sore from hauling around a loaded car seat, but she tells herself that at least she’s almost made it to Dante. She hopes she might be able to get a break from carrying the baby when she gets there.

Morrison leads her down an avenue that seems to have been particularly hard-hit. Mel struggles with figuring out what all the buildings used to be. Their trek winds them around cordoned-off zones and smaller pieces of debris. Morrison helps keep Mel steady as they clamber over a particularly large wreck, which according to him used to be part of a strip club.

“Poor Slum Avenue, it’ll be years before it’s back to what it was.” Morrison perks up suddenly. “But no matter, we’re finally here.” He gestures to the building directly in front of them. “It took a beating during the incident. Luckily the structure is still sound, it just… doesn’t look terribly pretty.”

No duh. The building clearly was never a looker to begin with, if the plain stone and brick work is any evidence. The recent damage isn’t doing it any favors. Mel just shrugs, not particularly concerned about it.

As they approach the front doors, Mel hears muffled music coming through the front door. Morrison does, too, as he stops and says, “You might want to hang back a bit. I’ll go in there and tell him to turn off that racket. Don’t want to scare your little guy there.”

Mel nods and backs up, standing just at the bottom of the steps. Morrison strolls right on in like he owns the joint. Just over the din she faintly hears him shout, “Turn that crap down! You’ve got company!” He disappears further inside, and Mel no longer can hear either of them, even though one of the front doors remains partly open. She waits for half a minute, swinging the baby’s seat away from the door to keep him as far from the noise as she can. Suddenly there’s a loud curse, and the music finally shuts off.

“That’s better,” Morrison says. “And yes, I know you’re not open. This isn’t about business. It’s… something personal.” He appears in the doorway and beckons to Mel. “You can come on in.”

She looks down at the baby and takes a bracing breath. “Moment of truth.” She walks up the steps, cautiously approaching the front door as Morrison holds it open for her. Shifting sideways to fit both her and the loaded car seat through the door, she steps inside (what will eventually be) Devil May Cry.

The inside fares somewhat better than the outside, though it’s clear the place needs cleanup and repairs. A smashed jukebox stands against the far wall, with a beaten drum set as its neighbor. On the other side lies what remains of a pool table. And in the center of it all is a hefty wooden desk, scratched up but sturdy. Sitting at that desk is Vergil’s twin, so identical that Mel nearly does a double take. She knew they were twins, but she hadn’t been prepared for seeing those same eyes.

The shock wears off quickly. Though Dante shares Vergil’s face, his appearance differs in nearly every other way. Where Vergil wears too much, Dante wears too little: he has pants on, and little else. His hair hangs in his face, rather than shoved back. And though he isn’t wearing it, Mel spies a red leather duster hanging on a coat rack. Opposite in nearly every way, indeed.

Dante raises a brow at her. “If only everyone who walked in here was-” He belatedly spies the baby she carries. His smile immediately evaporates as his tone turns defensive. “Whoa, whoa. I’ve never met you before, so don’t come in here claiming-”

Mel rolls her eyes. “Really? That’s your gut reaction to seeing a girl come in here with a baby?”

“Hey, a guy can’t be too careful.”

“Wouldn’t it be not careful enough in this case?”

A smirk briefly appears. “Touché.”

“Well, you can relax. I’m not here to claim you’re his dad.”

Dante shrugs, trying to look unruffled. “Okay, good. So, what brings you-”

“You’re his uncle.”

Dante goes very, very still. Those familiar but foreign blue eyes widen in absolute shock as he blurts out, “What?”

“You’re. His. Uncle.” Mel lets out a shaky breath. “And I know how hard that is to believe, but I’m not lying. Come see him for yourself if you don’t believe me.” She sets the car seat down on the floor.

His eyes dart back to the baby, regarding him warily. Slowly, carefully, he gets up and walks over to them. He kneels down to get a better look at him.

Mel would give anything to know what he’s thinking, but she doesn’t ask. She can all but see the wheels spinning in his head. She just watches in silence as his hand tentatively reaches out and brushes some of that silver downy hair. It’s then, as the dim light reflects that unmistakable color, that Mel sees the shift in him: the slow transition from skeptical to awestruck. He shakes his head in disbelief, but his eyes reveal what he’s really thinking.

Mel waits for Dante’s reaction, but he currently seems at a loss for words. She glances at Morrison instead. The older man is leaning back against the far wall, spinning a cigar around his fingers. He’s decidedly staying out of this; Mel isn’t sure if that’s for the best or not.

Dante finally speaks, his voice cracking as he chokes out, “You… You can’t be…” He laughs, the sound strained and uncomfortable. “I’ve got another brother I don’t know about somehow. That’s gotta be it. You can’t actually be talking about Vergil.”

“Nope, I sure am.” She’s sympathetic to his disbelief, she really is. After all, she’s met Vergil. “Identical twin, if just in appearance. Blue coat, way too many clothes, different hairstyle. Has a katana called Yamato that’s stupidly sharp. Has some kind of complex regarding being a human, leans way too much into the whole demon thing, and wants lots of power for… reasons.” She doesn’t entirely buy that Mundus is the only reason he wanted it, but that’s another discussion entirely. “When he isn’t being a prick, he can actually be kind of sweet. Likes literature, is fairly book smart, and has a dry sense of humor. And I…” She huffs out a sad laugh. “Nevermind. Anyway, sound familiar?”

“Most of it. You lost me at the end there.” Dante stands up. “But okay, you’ve definitely met him, I’ll give you that. So, what is this then? A meet and greet? Or were you hoping he was here? Because if you’re looking for him, I’ve got bad news for you.”

“He wound up in the Underworld. I know.”

Dante narrows his eyes at her, taking a step back. “Now how the hell do you know that?”

“Because I saw him a few days ago.”

“And how exactly did you see him? You don’t look like the type to take a hike in the Underworld.”

Mel closes her eyes a moment, steeling herself before she murmurs, “Dante… your brother is in serious trouble. Look, I don’t know what happened here, or how he would up in Hell. But Mundus captured him.”

His head snaps back and his voice raises a pitch in alarm as he demands, “How do you even know about him, let alone-”

“Just let me explain.” She crosses her arms, almost hugging herself as she thinks back to the incident a few days prior. “He showed up where I was, where I had met him almost a year ago. But he wasn’t himself. He was in this huge, dark set of armor. I couldn’t even see his face under the helmet. The only reason I knew it was him was because I heard his voice. He…” Dread and panic churn in her gut; she fights to keep her voice level as she continues, “He wasn’t in control of himself, not entirely. He was moving but I could tell he didn’t want to. He – he came to kill me.” The memory of his sword lifting above her head and swinging down is forever burned into her mind. She can safely say it’s the closest brush with death she’s ever had. “Suddenly he started shouting to someone that they couldn’t make him do it, that he refused. He told me to run… Then he screamed. This weird energy surrounded him. Up in the sky just then, I saw three red orbs with this really ominous glow. They were there for just a few seconds, and then they disappeared, along with Vergil.”

Dante starts pacing, his back turned to Mel and Morrison. Mel only catches glimpses of his face, but what she does see shows the struggle of a man trying not to lose his shit. He makes it about ten seconds before he shouts, “That fucking idiot!” Followed by slamming his fist into the wall, adding just a bit more damage to the already damaged room.

“Shh!” Mel hisses as the baby opens his eyes and begins squirming. “I get why you’re flipping out, but at least do it in another room.”

“Now let’s all take a breath here,” Morrison says, finally breaking his silence. “Let me get this straight: one of Sparda’s sons got captured by a demon?”

“Not just any demon,” Dante says through gritted teeth. “The family’s numero uno enemy. The same sack of shit that killed my mother. Dear old dad sealed him up and put an end to the demon invasion, and now he’s back with a bone to pick.”

Morrison’s mouth drops. “So you’re saying that he’s, what? The ruler of the demon world? And now he’s got your brother? Dante, that’s bad. Real bad. Not just for your family, but for all of us.”

“That’s why I came halfway across the damn world.” Mel picks up the baby and holds him close, soothing him with back rubs. “With a newborn, no less. I don’t know what can be done, but I didn’t know who else to go to but you.” This is all she can do, just sound the alarm. She can’t fight demons, and she knows very little about them. With her task done, she’s left with nothing. No purpose, no goal, no clear way forward. A bleak feeling of helplessness settles into her. An inadvertent gasp escapes her as the weight of everything crashes down on her. “Maybe there’s no saving him; this is all beyond me. But… if there’s some way, then please.” Mel places her cheek on top of the baby’s head. “I know you two have a deep-seated animosity towards each other. I don’t know why that is, but… he’s your brother. He’s the only family – well, only one of the two family members that you have. And he’s obviously done some awful things, things he deserves to be censured for, but he doesn’t deserve this. You and I both know he would never have joined him willingly. This was not his choice.” A lump forms in her throat. “If there’s anything I can do… I’m not much of anything, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Tch.” Dante slumps into his chair. “How am I supposed to say no when you’re looking at me like that? Besides… he’s my family, it’s true. And I’ve been told that means I have a certain responsibility to him.” He glances at the baby, this time with far less unease. “Not just to my stupid brother, either.” He tilts his head curiously. “So I’m an uncle now, huh? Well then. Guess that means I’m going to have to drag Vergil back so he can play daddy. Not sure how to do that, admittedly.”

“Dante.” Morrison steps forward. “Normally I charge for my services, but given the circumstances, I’ll do this pro bono. There are bound to be people who know how to get to this… Mundus, is it? If a demon king or whatever he’s called has come back, someone’s bound to have noticed. And you either need a way into the Underworld, or a way to lure Vergil out. Let me put out feelers.”

“‘preciate it, Morrison.” Dante frowns. “Though, now that you say that… he might come back for you,” he says, looking at Mel. “Or Mundus might send him after me. If he’s really on a revenge bender, I bet I’m next on the docket.” Suddenly his eyes widen in alarm. “Wait. The kid-”

“Mundus doesn’t know about him. Vergil… he left before I knew I was pregnant. And the baby wasn’t with me when he came back.”

“Small mercy.” Dante regards the baby thoughtfully. “And here I thought Vergil skipped town because of him. Well, that makes him a bit less of a deadbeat.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, you might want to hang around town for a while. Where are you staying?”

“Nowhere. I just got here this morning.” Mel shrugs. “I’m going to try and find a shelter to stay at.”

“A shelter?”

“I can’t swing a hotel. I spent nearly everything I had just getting here.” And there’s the issue of getting more money. Somehow she’ll need to find work amidst this mess. “I’ll try to find a shelter nearby.” She turns to Morrison. “Would you mind giving me a lift? I-”

“Hold up.” Dante sighs, loud and overly dramatic. “You’re staying here then. I might be pissed at Vergil, but I’m not throwing his kid and his… baby mama out on the street.”

A laugh bubbles up Mel’s throat. She finds the term kind of funny, but she imagines Vergil would not. “That’s… certainly one way of putting it. But, are you sure? He’s a newborn, he’s going to be up crying a few times at night-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, but that’s not gonna change anything. You can crash on my bed and I’ll take the couch.” He pauses and frowns. “I guess we need to find a crib.”

Morrison pipes up, “Might be able to help with that, too. Got a friend with a toddler, and she’s not having any more kids. I’ll see if she’s got anything she’s willing to part with.”

“You’re a treasure, Morrison.” Mel smiles gratefully. “Please let me know if I can help? I don’t want to be a freeloader.”

“You’ve got enough on your plate with being a single mom with a newborn. Least I can do.” Morrison tips his hat to them before turning for the door. “I’ll ring you up when I got something, but don’t expect anything right away. Job like this will take time.”

Dante rolls his eyes. “We get it. Just watch where you drop Mundus’s name. People hear ‘demon emperor’ and either shit their pants or decide to start up a damn cult.”

“I know what I’m doing, Dante. Ain’t my first rodeo.” Morrison waves over his shoulder before he walks out the door.

Mel feels the awkwardness settle in as she’s left alone with Dante. But she doesn’t have much time to worry about it: the baby starts squirming in her arms, and his face scrunches up in a sure sign he’s ready to cry. “Hey, it’s okay,” she coos to him. “You’re hungry, I know. Your schedule is a mess today.”

Dante swings his feet up onto his desk and leans back in his chair, tilting it so it’s standing on just two legs. He regards Mel and the baby with a curious look. “So, what’s his name?”

“Oh, um…”

“…you can’t tell me you don’t have one picked out.”

“I do. Or, I did. I just…” Mel sighs as she walks over to the beat-up couch in the corner. She sits down, settling her arms down on an old pillow that had been tucked against a couch arm. It provides some relief for her aching arms. “I thought of one that I finally liked, but as I’ve been thinking about it… It’s a bit of an odd name, at least for this part of the world. I’m afraid kids might make fun of him for it.”

Dante cocks a brow. “What’d you name him, Pointdexter?”

She huffs out a laugh. “No. Enea.”

“Enea? The hell is that from?”

“It’s Italian. It’s – it’s kind of a reference to something…” She feels overwhelmingly self-conscious about it, especially considering who she’s talking to. “Let’s just call it a work in progress for now. A – Anyway, I need to feed him, but after that… well, I think we both have some questions for each other.”

Dante slams down his foot on his desk. The sound startles Mel and the baby, but what’s even more surprising is that somehow, despite the laws of physics, the phone receiver pops up from the base and soars into Dante’s outstretched hand. “You feed the kid, then I’ll feed us. I’m not gonna listen to how my brother discovered sex without pizza in my system.” He pauses, then adds, “And maybe a drink or five.”

Chapter Text

Here Dante had thought that today was going to be uneventful. Most days are, especially since his business isn’t open yet. He had planned on just listening to music, getting pizza and maybe fixing something in his office. He misses his pool table something fierce.

But that isn’t happening now. Because less than a half hour ago, a blonde chick waltzed into his office and told him he’s an uncle. And apparently his brother got captured by Mundus. And now he’s being sent after the people in his life with extreme prejudice, all in a knight costume.

It’s a bit much to take in.

He chews on his pizza, his back firmly to Mel. It seems rude at a glance. Yet it’s out of courtesy he’s facing away from her. He assumes she wouldn’t appreciate him watching as she breastfeeds the baby. There’s not a lot of comfortable places to sit in his shop, and his bedroom is a wreck, to put it mildly. As well as being considerate, it also allows him a moment to turn over in his head what he’s learned.

How the hell did he get captured? What was that moron thinking? Going to Hell with his injuries ranks as one of Vergil’s dumbest ideas to date. No doubt he had thought his innate strength would get him through, but his luck had run out. Though Morrison had promised he’d dig up info, Dante can only think of one way to help him. Am I going to have to fight Mundus? The thought both thrills and terrifies him. He’s always wanted to take a swing at him and make him pay for what he did. Yet he can’t deny that this is the demon emperor they’re talking about, the guy even his father couldn’t kill. The guy who now also has his brother as an enslaved prisoner.

“All done.”

Dante doesn’t turn right away. He gestures that he heard her, but takes another bite from his pizza slice before he drops it on top of the box. “You sure you don’t want any?” He can easily devour a pie, but he’s not so rude as to not offer.

“I ate before I came here, but thanks.” Mel starts burping the baby, giving him a quick peck on his head as she does. “So, who wants to go first?”

“Mine’s probably the shortest, so I’ll start.” Dante swings his feet back onto his desk, settling in for what he’s sure is going to be one hell of a ride. “You know some of it already. Vergil came here with his buddy Arkham, raised a tower so he could snatch my father’s power from the Underworld, got stabbed in the back by Arkham, and it was all downhill from there.” Mostly. They did fight Arkham together. “I joined the party and we had it out a few times. One loss, one draw, and then a win.”

“In that order?”

He nods. “He wasn’t doing too hot after the last battle. But he dipped into the Underworld anyway.”

“…so he was injured when he fought Mundus.”

“And look where that got him.”

Mel keeps absentmindedly patting the baby’s back. “After all that effort to get Sparda’s power so he could fight Mundus… then he goes at him anyway.”

“Is that what he told you? That it was to fight Mundus?”

“Yes, but I don’t think that’s all there was to it.”

Dante snorts. “More than he ever told me.”

The tiniest burp pops out of Enea’s mouth. “Well, excuse you,” Mel teases as she turns him. The little one stares at his uncle, getting his first good look at him now that he isn’t sleeping or eating. “That’s your Uncle Dante. We’re going to be staying with him for a little while. Say hi!” Mel picks up his hand and waves it.

Uncle Dante. He’s too young to be having that title already. Yet it, and that stupidly adorable wave, plucks on a heartstring. Despite himself, a smile forms. “Hey, scamp. Sorry your dad is an idiot and got himself captured. Fortunately, you’re with the brains and brawn of the family.” That isn’t saying much, considering that out of the three Sparda blood descendants, one is a newborn and the other two have about five brain cells between them… on a good day. “How old is he?” Dante doesn’t know the first thing about babies, but he looks particularly young.

“Just over a week. He was born on the eighteenth.” Mel frowns when Dante’s smile vanishes. “What?”

“Same day as that.” He points towards the outside, at the wrecked city that surrounds his shop.

“…Oh.” An awkward silence ensues as Mel and Dante pointedly look away from each other. As it starts getting too much, she clears her throat and says, “Almost forgot. Guess it’s my turn for story time.”

Dante reclines further in his chair. “How exactly did you convince my brother to have sex? Though I still can’t believe he even knew what it is.”

“It was his idea.” There’s a hint of laughter in her voice. “And he already knew what it was, at least theoretically.”

“…you’re saying my brother – my uptight, power-hungry, one-track mind brother – initiated the banging?”

“You don’t have to believe me, but yes.” Mel tilts her head. “Is that the only part you care about, or do you want to hear this from the start?”

“Guess I’m getting a little ahead of things. All right. Start. Where and how did you two meet? And more importantly, what the hell made you look at my brother and go ‘I wanna fuck that guy’?”

“Are you calling him unattractive?” she asks with more than a little sardonic amusement.

“I know what you’re trying to do and I’m not falling for it.”

“Good to know you rate at least above a kindergartener on the ‘how easily duped am I’ scale.” Her smile only widens when he narrows his eyes at her. “Sorry, sorry,” she adds, not at all apologetic. “Anyway, he and I met on an island called Fortuna. It’s a xenophobic place that’s run by a cult that worships your dad as a god.”

“Wait, they worship a demon?”

“Yup. They call him ‘the Savior’.”

Dante’s eyes roll so hard it’s a wonder they don’t pop out of his head.

“You know Vergil well enough to guess why he was there. I went there because I was interested in the history of the place. He and I both were trying to get into this sealed off library; I knew how to get in, but I got attacked by demons and couldn’t fight them off, and vice versa for him. So we struck up a deal: I got us into that place and others like it on the island, and he handled the demons.”

It doesn’t entirely surprise Dante that Vergil had worked with someone. Last week’s incident is proof enough of that. “How long did this partnership last?”

“His entire stay, which was about three months.”

“You stuck it out with him for three freakin’ months?” Dante can’t tolerate him for three days.

“It wasn’t always easy, but yes. He was difficult at first, and pretty closed off. All very businesslike and distant. We started talking about what we liked to read. I found out we had some stuff in common, and that’s how you build any relationship.” As she recounts her story, her eyes become distant; her mind’s no longer in that shop, but in another place Dante can’t see. “After a little while he started opening up. Sometimes he could be sweet, and funny. We had a lot of fun observing the natives and making fun of them. And hey, he’s hot, so… one thing led to another…” She blinks, and her attention returns to the present. “I’ll spare you the details of that. Needless to say, things got to the point where I thought we…” Dante sees the pain as plain as day. Mel schools her expression back to neutrality, but she can’t quite bring herself to look at him. “I assumed too much. So did he, really.”

Broke her heart, huh. Leave it to Vergil to toss aside the one pretty girl who somehow found a way to care about him. Idiot. “Sounds like a completely different guy than the one I know.”

“They’re one in the same. I’ve seen the same man. There’s just a little more to him than he lets on.” Mel stands up and puts Enea in the car seat, tucking his blanket in around him. “I need to go to the bathroom. Are you okay keeping an eye on him? I won’t be long.”

Dante refuses to admit that being left alone with a baby terrifies him. He puts on a brave face and nods. “What’s the worst that can happen? Bathroom’s there,” he adds, pointing towards it.

Mel beelines straight for it without another word. The door slams shut behind her.

“…huh.” Dante regards his nephew as one might a ticking bomb. “You’re not gonna just suddenly cry, right? You got fed. You burped. That’s gotta be enough.” He pauses as a horrifying realization dawns on him. “What if you crap your diaper?”

The baby just stares. He’s a newborn, what else is he gonna do?

Thirty seconds pass. Dante keeps still, as if sudden movement would set off the baby. Enea, full and currently not in a stinky diaper, begins to snooze. As he drifts off to sleep, his uncle dares to move a little closer. He pauses and waits. Enea keeps sleeping. Dante shuffles even closer until he’s next to him.

“You’re off to a hell of a start. Born in a place that worships your grandfather, travel halfway across the world because your dumbass father is in trouble, and now you gotta crash with your uncle.” A rare, serious frown pulls at his lips. “Uncle… I don’t even know how to be one. What am I supposed to do? I barely had a father, let alone an uncle.” His only examples are from media, and those aren’t always entirely accurate. It’s all he’s got, though. “No real responsibility, right? Maybe it’s like with grandparents: take the kid, spoil them and rile them up, then dump them back with the parents.” Sounds easy enough. “Yeah. The way more fun, cooler uncle. I can rock that.” He’ll make sure the kid doesn’t turn into a total stuck-up nerd like his father. Enea might not be much fun now, but once he’s bigger he’ll be wanting to play and cause a ruckus. And then when he’s even older, Dante can teach him how to fight, how to play the guitar, where to find the best pizza joints… It brings a smile to his face.

The bathroom door swings open. Mel steps out; Dante notes her face looks a little splotchy. “Thanks,” she says as she comes over to check on the baby.

Was she… crying? It’s hard to tell for certain, but either way, Dante doesn’t want to deal with that. Not his business and all. “Kid just conked out, no big deal.”

“I heard you talking to him. Something about riling him up and dumping him off?”

“It’s an uncle’s job,” he says with undeserved confidence. “Someone’s gotta spoil him, right?” He fully expects her to either laugh or scold him. What he’s met with is a sad smile, one that makes his chest hurt. “What?”

“Saying all that… it means you want to be a part of his life. That’s such a relief to hear.” She tucks a stray curl behind her ear. “I want to save Vergil, but I know there’s a chance that it isn’t possible. You and I might be all Enea has.”

Dante almost says that two of them are better than none, but a realization stops him. He might be the fun-loving, “slightly” irresponsible uncle, but he’s still his family, and that means that he owes it to Enea to give him a better life than he had. Two is better than one, true, but why settle for that? He has three living family members, and he’s going to have all three in his life, damn it.

“Ha. You think I’m gonna let Vergil off that easy? I told you, I’m dragging him back and he’s going to be the stupid, stuffy father.” No, he still doesn’t know how, but that’s never stopped him before. One way or another, he’s going to bring Vergil back – kicking and screaming if he must.

As it turns out, not a lot of people know about a demon emperor. Morrison is no stranger to roadblocks, but this proves to be a unique challenge. His usual contacts had turned up with nothing. Many had pledged to put out their own feelers. Morrison normally hesitates in letting others do that; it takes away some control, and he can’t account for how trustworthy those sources are. The urgency of the situation compels him to throw caution to the wind. He needs something.

A few days pass with no word. He fears he may not be able to keep his promise to Dante and Mel, and that drives a proverbial stake into his heart. He’s supposed to be the information guy, the one who has the answers, or at least some clues. What good is he if he can’t find what they need when it’s needed the most?

Morrison tries not to stress smoke cigars, but he needs some way to settle his nerves. His small office space fills with smoke as he nurses yet another cigar; if it wasn’t so cold out, he’d open the window. He’d rather deal with the smoke than the chilly wind. As he brings the cigar to his lips to take another puff, his phone rings. All but dropping the cigar, he snatches the receiver and answers, “This is Morrison.”

“Hey, Morrison. It’s Laurie,” a familiar raspy voice says. “I think I mighta found you a person to reach out to about your friend’s family problem.”

“Laurie, if you did and it’s good, I swear to you I’ll buy you that Don Ramón. And yes, the fancy one.”

“I’m holdin’ ya to that, but I’ll be nice and give you a month to get it for me. Yer gonna need your money for traveling.”

“Travel? Don’t you have a number?”

“No number. This source doesn’t have a phone. They live on some island, I think off of South America. Or maybe it’s Europe, fuck if I know. I just got a place and a name, but my guy swears by this one. The lady’s old as hell, but apparently, she’s somethin’ of an expert about this demon shit. Word is, she knew Sparda.”

Morrison raises a brow. “Sounds promising, if true. All right, I guess I’ll bite. You’re the only one who’s dug up anything.” He grabs his notepad and fumbles around for a pen. “So, where am I going?”

“Vie de Marli.”

Chapter Text

Mel awakens in an unfamiliar bed. She sits up and frantically looks around. “Enea?” There’s no crib in the room, or any sign of her son. Ignoring her opulent surroundings and the fluffy bed she’s in, Mel flings off the thick comforter and races out of the room. A long hallway stretches to her left. One wall is covered in paintings and old photographs, the other dotted with doors to other rooms. She sprints down the hall, stopping at every door and looking inside to see if Enea is there. None have him; she’s only met with old-fashioned but expensive furniture, and decorative items that look like they belong in a museum. In one room she catches a glimpse of a painting that looks suspiciously like Raphael’s Portrait of a Young Man.

Her increasingly desperate search takes her into a study room. “Enea!” she calls out again. “Whose house is this? Where am I? Where is my son?!”

A cry rings out from somewhere nearby. Mel’s head snaps towards the direction of the sound. “Enea!” She runs towards it, all but flinging herself into every room and space she sees, hoping he’s there. “Enea!” she screams as her search keeps turning up empty. Tears sting at the corner of her eyes. “Please! Give me back my son!”

She reaches a set of French doors. She flings them open, the doors bouncing off the walls behind them. A sunroom greets her; as its name implies, it’s brightly lit, sunlight pouring through the tall windows. At the far end of the room she sees a bassinet. She rushes towards it, hope soaring in her heart. “Please be there, please be there…”

Bundled up in that bassinet is Enea, fussing in agitation. Mel gasps in relief as she picks him up and holds him close. “Oh thank god. You’re okay. I’m so sorry, sunshine. I don’t know where we are or why you weren’t…” She trails off when she hears a voice call out to her. “Who…?”

Mel tries to follow the voice, but it proves difficult. It’s faint; she barely hears it above her own breathing. Her aimless wandering leads her to another set of double doors. With much more caution she opens them. Warm air rushes in as she steps outside. A sea of grass spills out to the edge of the horizon in every direction. A few trees stand vigil around the house – more like a mansion, really – and in the distance there is a garden, full of all kinds of flowers Mel couldn’t hope to identify.

Beneath the largest tree, a grand oak, a man kneels. Mel thinks she sees someone sitting in front of him, but she can’t make out the figure. She slowly steps towards them, calling out, “Hello? I’m sorry, but can you tell me where I am? I don’t think I should be here.”

As she gets closer, the details suddenly come into focus. The kneeling man keeps his back to her, but there’s no mistaking the silver hair. Her eyes widen. “But you’re-”

The man looks over his shoulder at her. He just smiles and says, “It’ll be all right.”

Mel snaps awake again, almost as startled as in her dream. This time it’s less about not knowing where she is but more why she’s where she is. She glances around Dante’s office. When did I fall asleep on the- Whatever questions she has die mid-thought when she gets an eyeful of the scene playing out in the office.

Enea lies on the floor, as naked as when he came into the world. His diaper had been removed at some point; it lies balled up a few feet away. He stares in consternation at his uncle, who is currently puzzling out how to put a new diaper on. Dante holds out the fresh diaper in front of him, staring at it with the same intensity as a chess master pondering their next move. “How did this go on? I’ve seen her do this twenty times, I should-”

Mel blinks. “Did you… you’re changing his diaper?”

Dante freezes, only his eyes moving as he realizes he’s been caught. He glances at Mel, then the baby, and then back at Mel. “Uh…” She can all but see the steam coming from his ears as he desperately tries to save face. “Just caught me as I was finishing up. Kid reeked so I got ahead of the curve and changed it before he could start crying.”

The effort it takes for Mel to not laugh borders on Herculean. She gets up and kneels next to Dante. “Well, you weren’t kidding about the smell.” Even with the diaper off, she can smell Enea’s latest bowel movement. “You even cleaned him up pretty well.” She checks over him, making sure Dante got everywhere. “Must have taken a lot of wipes.”

“Oh hell no, I put him in the sink.” When Mel frowns, he defensively adds, “What? The shit was up his back.”

“Poor little guy.” Mel smiles at Enea, rubbing his stomach. “You must have had an upset tummy, huh?”

“…that would explain why he was screaming bloody murder at four in the morning.”

“He did seem more upset than usual.” Mel holds out her hand to Dante. With a huff, he hands the diaper to her. “You know, it’s okay to admit you don’t have it figured out yet. It took me a few tries to get the diaper on right the first time.” She wraps the diaper around Enea, patting the sealing strips a few times before she picks the baby up. “Why didn’t you wake me? Especially for that bad of a diaper, I would have understood.”

Dante shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. “You were out cold. I could handle it, so there was no point in getting you up.”

“Thank you.” She smiles before standing up. “It’s nice to have a bit of help.”

“Being a single mom’s rough.”

It occurs to Mel that Dante would have experience with that. From what Vergil told her, it seems that Sparda vanished some time before their mother died. She isn’t sure how much time elapsed between those losses, but it must have been long enough. “Yeah, it is. But at least I’ve only got one kid to take care of.” She walks over to Dante’s desk. There’s a lone photograph that stands there, of a blonde woman with kind eyes. It isn’t hard to guess who she is. “…I just realized that Vergil never told me her name.”

Dante’s quiet for a long moment, to the point where Mel begins to wonder if she somehow touched a nerve. She didn’t see the harm in just asking her name-

“Eva.” Dante trains his eyes on the floor. “I’m shocked he talked about her at all.”

“He didn’t tell me much: just she was human and that she died when you two were young. That’s all.”

“Yeah, he’d focus on that, wouldn’t he?” he says with a sneer. “Typical of him.”

She’s a sore subject, in more ways than one. Mel will have to tread carefully if she talks about her in the future. “He’s more about your demonic heritage, so I guess it makes sense.” She looks to the wall behind Dante’s desk. Devil Arms hang haphazardly from it. She doesn’t recognize what most of the weapons are supposed to be. “Those are Devil Arms, right? Do you collect them?” she asks, vying for a subject change.

“Yeah, they are. I wouldn’t say I’m a collector, but they’re good to have around.” He tilts his head at her. “You know about those?”

“From Vergil. Yamato is one, and so is your Rebellion. They’re… almost kind of sentient, right?”

“It varies, but yeah.” His brow furrows, and he adds in a confused tone, “He really told you about all this? Devil Arms and our mother, and I’m assuming our father. And books and people and…” A laugh sputters out of him. “My dumbass, closed-off brother?”

“Well… yeah. We were with each other every day for three months. Did you think we didn’t talk the entire time?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s never cared about having friends or having a relationship. Because that’s human and he can’t have that.” He spits his words out with venomous sarcasm. “I can’t believe he would cozy up to a girl, despite all his talk.”

Maybe it’s lingering hormones. Maybe it’s the way Dante worded it. Maybe it’s how he talks about their relationship with such a lackadaisical attitude. Whatever it is, his words grate Mel’s nerves. She bristles and says, “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Dante. I’m not lying.”

“I’m not-”

Whatever defense Dante tries to mount gets cut off when the front doors swing open. A girl about their age walks in, a rocket launcher strapped to her back. “Dante, do you know where Morr-” She stops when she registers the scene in front of her. Her mismatched eyes land on Mel, who’s now on the receiving end of an intense, almost terrifying stare. “Who the hell are you?”

In hindsight, he probably should have told Lady about Mel. His lack of foresight has now come to bite him in the ass. Mel’s already mad at him, and now she’s about to get interrogated. “You really gotta work on how you greet new people,” he says to Lady. It’s bound to piss her off, but that’s sort of the idea. He’d rather she direct her questions at him.

“Why is there a girl with a baby-” Lady’s mouth drops when she connects the dots (or think she does, anyway). “You knocked her up? You’re not even nineteen and now you’re a father? Have you never heard of a condom?”

Dante looks over his shoulder at Mel, trying not to smile. Normally he’d laugh and risk getting shot, but he’s trying to be a good uncle, and having a gun fired with a baby around is pretty squarely not a good uncle thing to let happen. “How many times do you think I’m gonna be accused of that?”

“Accused of-” Lady stomps over to him and gets up in his face. “He looks just like you! I can see that even from here!”

“He does. He got it from my brother.”

He can all but see Lady’s train of thought crash straight into a wall. She jerks back in shock. “Wh – Ver – you’re… you’re kidding me. You actually expect me to believe your brother-”

“He’s telling the truth,” Mel cuts in, her tone bordering on sharp. “This isn’t Dante’s son, but his nephew. I’ve only known Dante for a week.” A little half smile appears as she adds, “I see you’ve met Vergil, too.”

Dante almost feels bad for Lady. He knows exactly what’s going through her head; it’s the same as what he went through when he heard the news. He sees the shock, the disbelief, the confusion. She looks at him expectantly, almost desperately, waiting for a punchline. He just shrugs and says, “Yeah, I know.”

“…Vergil?” Lady huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Why? He’s…”

“An asshole?” Mel holds Enea close, as if to shield him from this conversation about his father, one that’s bound to be like the rest. “I’m aware. I don’t need the same speech, thanks.”

Dante braces himself for an argument, but to his surprise, Lady backs off on that front. Instead, she leans in a little closer to him and whispers, “Does she know about where he went?”

“That he took a one-way trip into Hell? She knows. And she also learned what happened to him.” Dante leans back against his desk, a little more relaxed now that the initial shock seems to have passed. “Look, I know you can’t stand Vergil after what happened in the Temen-ni-gru. I’m not his biggest fan either. But he’s gotten himself into a really bad situation, one we need to get him out of.”

“What did he do now?”

“Got captured by Mundus. The demon emperor, the one my father sealed up to stop the demons. Guess he caught wind that Vergil joined the neighborhood and welcomed him in the worst way possible.”

“…he didn’t kill him?”

“That would have been the nice thing to do. Nope, he decided to enslave him and turn him into his goon. He sent him after Mel over a week ago.”

Lady’s eyes go wide. “How the hell did you survive?” she asks Mel.

Mel sighs softly. “Vergil managed to stop himself. He put up a fight, enough that Mundus recalled him. After I realized what happened, I traveled here to warn Dante.”

“And now you’re trying to figure out a way to free him.” Lady nods as it sinks in. “I’m half inclined to say he deserves it, but… I don’t think I could actually wish that on anyone, not even him. And a demon emperor having control of someone that powerful puts humanity in danger.” She pauses, expression thoughtful as she turns it over in her mind. “What’s being done?”

Dante shrugs. “Morrison’s looking for info. We’re on standby.”

“So that’s why I can’t find him.”

“Wait, he isn’t in the city?”

“I don’t think so. I checked at the bar you said he hangs out at, and they said he left town yesterday.”

Dante frowns. Morrison hadn’t said anything to him, which is irritating. Then again, it’s possible Morrison is just being cautious. No point in getting their hopes up before he knows whether a lead is any good. “You’ll have to wait. Rescuing Vergil’s the priority right now. I’m not letting him skip out on fatherhood via demon emperor enslavement.”

“That’s certainly one way to dodge child support.”

Enea suddenly begins to fuss, his little face scrunching up. Mel kisses his head, gently comforting him. “It’s all right. I’m sure you’re getting hungry.”

Lady takes a few tentative steps towards him. Before she can get close, Dante grabs the Kalina Ann and yanks her back. “Hey, what are you-”

“No weapons around the kid.”

“…right.” Lady unshoulders the launcher, setting it on the floor (and pointed away from the baby). She unholsters her guns and puts them on Dante’s desk. Thoroughly unarmed, she approaches Mel and Enea. “He looks really little. Is he even a month old?”

“He’s almost two weeks.”

“You sure you want your baby around him?” She jabs her thumb at Dante. “He’s not exactly the pinnacle of responsibility.”

“Hey!” He’s all indignation as he rants, “I can be the cool, fun uncle while also being responsible! Didn’t I just tell you to not bring your weapon around him? I even changed his diaper earlier!” A pause. “Well, Mel put it on, but I cleaned him up!”

Mel adds, “He actually has been doing okay. He’s letting us stay here for free.”

Lady raises a brow, looking almost impressed. “Well, well. Maybe you’re not a complete child after-”

The phone rings. Enea begins to cry, startled by the sudden noise. Mel moves to the other side of the room, trying to soothe him while Dante picks up the receiver. “Unless your name is Morrison, we’re not open yet.”

“Good thing it’s still my name, last I checked.”

“Morrison!” Dante turns and waves at Mel to get her attention. “Where the hell are you? Lady says you left town.”

“I did. Got a lead, but wanted to follow u-” He cuts out in a burst of static.

“You cut out. Where are you?”

“-uth America, on an island. Not great … lack of decent tech…”

“…South America? What the hell is there?”

“-this short. Found help. Coming in two days.”

“You found something?”

“Yes. Tell y… get there. Talk to you…” There’s silence, and then the line goes dead.

Mel, still shushing Enea, looks at Dante hopefully. “Did he find anything?”

“It was hard to tell over all the static, but it sounds like he did. Said he’d be here in two days.”

“Oh thank god.” Mel grins. “He did it. I just hope they know a way to help.”

“I don’t think he’d drag them all the way up from South America if they didn’t.”

“South America? Geez.” Enea’s cries grow louder; Mel sighs in defeat. “I’m sorry, but I need to feed him. But um…” She looks at Lady. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Oh. It’s Lady.”

“Uh… okay. Lady, um… I was gonna make some dinner tonight. I’m sick of pizza. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like. I’m making clam chowder.”

Lady snorts. “Dante’s eating something besides pizza? I’ll stay for that alone. I need to see if he’s even capable.”

“Same question I had. It’ll be a fun science experiment, if nothing else.”

Dante balks at the suggestion. “I’ve had food besides pizza. I haven’t-”

“What are you banking on happening? Him passing out? His stomach revolting? Personally, I think he won’t even remember how to eat chowder. He probably hasn’t used utensils in forever.”

“Hmmm.” Mel begins to walk towards the stairs so she can feed the baby in private. “I’m curious to see if his tastebuds even work. He might just taste nothing but pizza.”

“Pizza-flavored chowder? Eugh.”

The girls share a laugh. Dante glowers at them both, but neither care. He wonders if he hasn’t just created a monster. If Mel and Lady become friends, that’ll mean double the teasing. They’ll gang up on him for sure, like they did just now. …I’m screwed, aren’t I?

Far away from Capulet City, on an island seemingly abandoned (though it’s anything but), there is a throne room. It has not been used as such for centuries; the current master of the castle resides in something far grander. Ironically, one of his enslaved minions has taken up residence in the defunct throne room. Tall windows overlook the ocean, a majestic view that speaks to a freedom that servant no longer has.

His mind feels as empty as the room he stands in. Once in a while, he hears an echo, a fragment of something he feels like he should know. He’ll grasp feebly at the feeling, but it always slips through his fingers. His master tells him there is nothing there, but a seed of doubt remains.

A voice not his own echoes in his head. “You have sat idle for long enough. I will give you yet another chance to finish your transformation.”

Unease stirs in him.

“You yet cling to your humanity. It weakens you. It is time you cut out the last of it. The girl who escaped you has been found. You will go to her, and you will carry out what you failed to do before. Kill her, and with it kill the last of your weak human heart.”

He must. He will. He has no choice. Mundus demands it, and Nelo Angelo will obey.

Chapter Text

Dante sits in his desk chair, and Lady sits opposite him on his beat-up couch. Enea’s passed out upstairs in his crib. Outside of the noises coming from the kitchen (Lady’s surprised Dante even has one), the shop is oddly quiet. When was the last time I had chowder? Lady wonders as she waits for dinner. Or ate with other people like this? Oh, but she knows the answer, it’s just painful to admit. The last time she did was with her parents; it was the last meal she had with either of them.

With Mel preoccupied and out of earshot, Lady takes the chance to ask (and distract herself from darker thoughts), “So… how long is Mel gonna stay here?”

Dante answers with a shrug and, “At least until this rescue attempt is over.” There’s a long pause. He wears a serious frown that’s rather unlike him. “Really hadn’t thought past that.”

“Kind of hard to when there’s so much up in the air. It really depends on how it goes, right?”

“Right.” Dante cranes his head until he’s staring straight at the ceiling. “If it fails… I guess she would stay, if she wants. Can’t really just toss them out on the street.”

“And if it succeeds, then it would come down to what Vergil does.” Lady makes a considering noise. “Isn’t it weird, having your brother’s… ex, I guess, staying here? With his baby?”

“Of course it’s weird. It’s weird and nothing she says about him makes any damn sense, but-”

The kitchen door swings open, and out comes Mel, precariously carrying three bowls of chowder. “All done! Here you go.”

Lady takes a bowl, balancing it carefully in her lap as she blows on it to cool it off. Once Dante has his, Mel takes a seat next to Lady on the couch. “I haven’t had this in months and was really craving some.”

“Thanks,” Lady says, remembering her manners at the last minute.

Dante, being his usual ill-mannered self, dives right in without a word. Lady watches him in a mix of disgust and amusement as he scarfs down the chowder. He probably burned the hell out of his mouth. But I guess when you can take two bullets to the head and live to whine about it, the roof of your mouth being a little burned is nothing. Lacking that luxury, Lady blows on her chowder a few more times before she spoons some up and takes a tentative slurp. Still a little hot, but she tastes the clam easily, though it’s not overpowering. The chopped potatoes and bacon bits complement it well, and she swears she tastes a hint of garlic. “This is really good,” she concludes before scooping up more.

Mel beams in pride. “Thank you! How do you like it, Dante?”

He looks up from his empty bowl, a dribble of clam juice running down his chin as he chews on the last of his dinner. He gives her a thumbs up.

“Do you cook a lot?” Lady asks Mel, pointedly ignoring Dante.

“I’m trying to do it more. Enea won’t be eating solid food for a while, but I want to get the hang of it before he does. I don’t want to be the kind of mom that has to rely on frozen meals all the time.”

“You’ve got clam chowder nailed. Is it a family recipe?”

A shadow crosses over Mel’s expression. She looks down at her bowl, idly stirring her chowder with her spoon. “Um, it’s just something I picked up in my travels.”

You’re not a very good liar. Lady exchanges a glance with Dante; he doesn’t seem to be buying it either. But this isn’t worth calling her out on. She nods along in pretend. “I can’t wait to travel. Have you been a lot of places?”

Mel perks up at the subject change, and she regales Lady and Dante with some stories of her travels. Lady’s a little envious; even though Mel’s only two years older, she’s already been to so many places. In time, demon hunting will take her to lots of new locales, but she itches to go somewhere different as soon as she can. For now, she takes herself there vicariously through Mel’s accounts.

The older girl happily answers any questions Lady, and occasionally Dante, throw at her. He’s mostly busy eating more chowder (somehow he got two more servings when Lady wasn’t paying attention), but he listens as attentively as her. The more Mel talks, the more she brightens up.

“…and that’s why I can’t step foot in Dunfanaghy ever again,” Mel concludes. “All because of mistaken identity and me not being able to handle Guinness.”

“At least those guys were nice enough to help sneak you out of town.”

“Yeah. They were pretty cool, though I think they might have been IRA.” Mel shrugs. “By that point, I was getting tired of Ireland. And bored, honestly. I went back to the mainland right after that.”

“Where’d you go then?”

“Well, I was thinking about going east and maybe seeing Russia, but I…” There’s that shadow again. Mel forces a little smile as she gets up and collects everyone’s bowls. “I got side-tracked. Wound up going to a different place and was there for a while.” She sweeps into the kitchen, and says over her shoulder, “I’m gonna clean up,” before the kitchen door shuts behind her.

Lady waits. When she believes Mel’s out of earshot, she says, “I just don’t get it.” She shakes her head, flabbergasted. “She seems nice. Like, an actually decent person. I can see myself liking her, which irritates me.”

“Why? Because of Vergil?”

“You said it yourself, it’s weird to have her here. Anyone your brother likes should be someone we don’t like. How did she get entangled with him, anyway? Unless she lied about half her stories, she has the sense to stay away from the wrong people.” She snorts. “Though given how she won’t talk about him, I’m guessing she’s aware of her mistake.”

Dante glances at the kitchen door. He lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug, trying to come across as indifferent. “Sounds like he did a number on her. I don’t think she likes us talking about him, so let’s just call it taboo for now.”

“Why? Is she expecting us to pretend he didn’t ruin part of this city and kill hundreds of people, just because she thought sleeping with him was a good idea?”

Something shatters in the kitchen. Dante’s on his feet and at the door in a flash. Lady hurries out of her seat, right on his heels. He flings the door open. “Hey, are you-”

Mel stands at the kitchen sink. There are tears in her eyes, but fire, too. The pair are met with a searing glare as she pushes off against the counter. “Gee, how magnanimous of you two to put up with me despite my mistakes and my bad ideas. I’m so sorry for how hard it’s been on you.” Her words are nothing but scathing sarcasm and barely withheld rage. “I’m glad you think my son is a mistake, and that what Vergil and I had was stupid. Thanks so much.” She barrels past them, shoving them aside as she heads for the stairs.

Dante sighs and calls out, “Mel, wait-”

“Fuck you,” she spits before she ducks into his bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

The next two days are uncomfortable, to put it lightly. Mel barely talks to Dante. There are moments when she seems to want to say something, but she refrains, keeping the tense peace. More than once he tries to work up the courage to talk it out, but her icy demeanor deters him. He’s become uncomfortable in his own home, and he knows he’s largely to blame for it.

On the second night, Dante cracks open an eye when he hears Enea start crying. He rubs his eyes as he groans and rolls over on the couch. On the far wall, he can barely make out the time on the manual clock: 3:42 AM. Ugh, kid, you’re killing me.

Upstairs he hears Mel rummaging around. He frowns in confusion. What could she- His question is answered when he catches a glimpse of a plastic bag from the corner of his eye. The bag of diapers and wipes that she had bought earlier, and that he vaguely recalls she meant to take upstairs. He shoves off his worn blanket and swings his legs off the couch. In two strides he makes it to the bag and snatches it up. He heads up the stairs and makes for his bedroom. Just when he’s almost within arm’s reach of the door, it suddenly swings open. Mel, harried and exhausted, rushes out and nearly smacks into Dante. “Oh shi –”

Dante holds up the bag. “Need this?”

She stares for a couple seconds as her sleep-heavy brain struggles. A frown settles in place, and with a quiet and terse, “Yeah, thank you,” she takes it and hurries back into the room, where Enea lies waiting on the bed, crying in annoyance and impatience.

Dante takes a step back, intending to go back to sleep. But something stops him before he turns away. He wants to just ignore the situation and hope it goes away, but he knows he can’t. Mel’s his nephew’s mother, and the closest thing to a sister he’s probably ever going to have. If they can’t save Vergil, they’ll be the only family he has left. He’s gone over a decade without one. Now isn’t the time for his pride and indifference. Instead, he stays, leaning against the door as he watches Mel change the baby’s diaper.

She doesn’t realize he’s still there until she’s finished and picks up the baby. As she holds him close and tries to soothe him to sleep, her eyes dart over to Dante. “What is it?”

Four in the morning isn’t the best time to have this kind of conversation, but it’s going to bug him until they do. “I’m kind of tired of you being mad at me, and I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it’s probably even less fun for you.”

Mel answers him with silence, but her eyes speak for her. He sees the same anger from the other day. She says through gritted teeth, “We aren’t having this conversation now.”

“Then when are we?”

“I don’t know. At a decent time, and when we can talk about your brother without you putting us both down?”

“I wasn’t trying to put you-”

“But you did!” A cry of frustration escapes her. “You and Lady act like I’m a moron. And okay, yeah, unprotected sex wasn’t the smartest thing I ever did. But my time with Vergil wasn’t a mistake. Enea wasn’t a mistake. Of course I wish things went differently, but I don’t regret it.” Tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t regret your brother.”

“Even after what he’s done?” Dante flings his arm out towards the direction of the wrecked city. “After he left you for some stupid, unattainable goal? After he’s proven to be an asshole, which you’ve even admitted he is?”

Mel sobs. It’s a small, quiet sound, which she tries to hide by pressing her face to Enea. “You don’t think I haven’t thought of that? You don’t think I haven’t been wrestling with it this whole time?” Her tears finally fall. She sniffles and angles herself away from Dante. “How do you think I feel, knowing the guy I care about did those things? That I knew he was capable of it and I still…” She shudders out a breath as she puts Enea in his crib, wanting to spare him from the pain and anger radiating from her. “Vergil can be an asshole. I’ve been on the brunt end of it. He can be narrowminded and shortsighted and frustrating. I know that, Dante.” She turns back to him, redirecting her fury back at him. “I don’t deny he hurt you and Lady. Whatever you feel about him is understandable. But did it ever occur to either of you that maybe, just maybe, you don’t know him all that well? She dealt with him for one night. You’ve barely seen him since you two were little. But I spent three straight months with him.”

Dante’s beginning to understand just how she got to know Vergil as well as she did. Mel knows how to aim her punches and get past defenses. As much as it irks him, he knows she’s right. That’s what it comes down to: he doesn’t know his brother as well as he thought. He makes a “tch” sound, crossing his arms and trying not to be prickly as he responds with, “Maybe I don’t. But I’m in the same position as you, Mel. You’re trying to reconcile those parts of Vergil, but so am I. We’re just coming from it at opposite ends.”

She wipes at her tears, taking a seat on the bed. “There’s this… approach to Vergil I came up with when we were together. It’s really oversimplified, but it fits. I see him as having two sides: his human side and his demon side. His human side is all the things I like about him, the things that reveal the person underneath all his bravado and disdain. His demon side is… you know it well. And that’s the problem. The demon side is the one he shows up front, and he doesn’t usually let people stick around long enough to see the other side.”

“I didn’t even know there was another side.” His brother hadn’t always been like this, power hungry and driven to the point of cruelty. But he believed that the person his brother was died with their mother. Now Mel says otherwise. It makes him wonder why Vergil hides it away. Something tells him that the answer to that question is the same as why he wants power so badly.

“Do you really not believe there’s more to your brother?”

“…It’s easier not to.” Then he doesn’t have to feel as guilty for being willing to kill him, or for defining their relationship by the battles they’ve fought. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been a jerk about it. I guess I didn’t realize how much you liked him. Still think you’re kind of crazy because of it, but there’s no accounting for taste.”

For the first time in two days, he sees a smile from her. “I probably am. I accepted that a while ago.” After a thoughtful pause, she adds, “Do you think we’ll figure it out? Come to some conclusion about Vergil and why he’s the way he is?”

Dante snorts. “Who knows? If he’d actually-”

A demonic presence slams into his senses. His head snaps up in surprise as he tries to pin it down. It’s powerful, whatever it is; his hairs are standing on end.

“What is it?” Mel asks.

“Shh.” Dante waves at her to be quiet as he pushes out his senses, trying to get a bead on the demon. He strains to listen, too. Demons don’t stay quiet for long.

He barely hears it at first. It’s tough to pin what the sound is beyond something metal. It slowly draws closer, and as it does, it becomes clearer. Heavy metal clanks together ominously. Dante’s eyes meet Mel’s. Her eyes widen in terror when she, too, hears the sound.

“Stay here,” he hisses before he turns and all but lunges out the door.

“Wait, wait!” Mel chases after him into the walkway and reaches out to grab him. “We don’t have a plan or anything. If you fight what will-”

The front doors burst open. The right door flies off its hinges and slams into the wall. Framed in weak moonlight, an unnaturally tall figure stands in the doorway. Bright blue veins run across parts of his armor and through the enormous greatsword he carries. Glowing red eyes stare impassively through the horned helmet he wears. When those unsettling eyes take notice of Mel and Dante, he raises his sword and points it at Mel with menacing intent.

“Vergil…” she gasps out.

Dante stands there, utterly stupefied. Hearing about what Vergil has become is one thing, but seeing him stirs within Dante an almost debilitating horror. His brother has been reduced to an armored puppet, mindlessly fulfilling his new master’s bidding. He never agreed with Vergil’s choices, but they were Vergil’s choices. He had made them, and if nothing else, Dante at least respected him for the determination he followed them with. Now he’s been robbed of even that.

Vergil starts for the stairs, intent on his mission. Dante snaps out of it and leaps over the railing, shouting, “I’ll get him out of here! You need to hide!” The floor shakes as he lands with a hard thud. With a flick of his hand, he summons Rebellion. “Well, well, big brother. That’s a hell of a new look.” He points his sword at him in challenge. “Come on. You gotta be itching for a fight. And you know I always deliver.”

His brother looks between Dante and Mel, torn between what he must do and what he wants to do. He shouts in frustration, the sound deep and guttural and not at all like Vergil.

“Too slow!” Dante charges at him, swinging Rebellion in a wide arc. It forces Vergil to parry and focus his attention on him instead of Mel. Dante lets loose a flurry of swings, beating Vergil back from the stairs and towards the door. “Do you take constructive criticism?” He ducks, narrowly missing a swing from Vergil’s armored fist. “That’s a no, but when’s that ever stopped me? Look, I gotta be honest.” Rebellion clashes against that abomination of a sword Vergil carries, metal scraping against metal. “You look like shit. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss the cravat.”

Vergil suddenly disappears in a flash of bluish-purple light. Dante stumbles forward from the sudden momentum. He lifts his head to find Vergil just outside the doors, lifting up his hand. A worrying ball of blue energy rapidly forms in his outstretched palm.

“That’s new.” If it were just him, Dante would dive out of the way and worry about the damage to his shop later. But it isn’t just him. He grits his teeth and races towards Vergil. He flings Rebellion forward to hit him with Stinger and cut off his attack. Just as he reaches him, the energy flashes and fires. Dante can only swing Rebellion in front of him and brace for impact.

Mel’s mouth opens to scream, but Dante’s name gets stuck in her throat. She can only watch helplessly as a shockwave of light tears through him. He goes sailing backwards and slams into his desk. Both skitter across the floor before colliding with the back wall. Rebellion clatters to the ground. Dante groans as he struggles to stand.

Vergil stalks towards him. He grabs Dante by the throat and lifts him up. Before Dante can retaliate, he slams him against the floor. His grip tightens, and he repeats the motion. And again. And again. Mel stares in horror as Dante’s brutally beaten into the floor like a rag doll. Blood spatters all around him, and all over him. He’s battered and bruised to such a degree that Mel can’t even believe he’s still breathing, let alone still trying to stand. Vergil drops Dante one last time and lifts up his sword to finish him off.

“Vergil, stop!”

His head snaps up. His eyes flash red, then dim to a dull yellow. Remembering his mission, he ditches Dante and makes for the stairs once more.

Mel begins to retreat into the bedroom. Enea makes agitated noises, no doubt woken up by the ruckus. She freezes when her hand grabs the door knob. No matter what, she can’t let Vergil inside and see Enea. Mundus will not spare the baby; just the opposite, she suspects. She looks over her shoulder at the crib, for what she knows could be the last time. Swallowing tears and terror, she closes the door behind her. She turns forward, just in time for Vergil to clear the last step. Now only a short walkway separates her from certain death.

He looms above her, sword hanging at his side. Mel fights to put on a brave face. “Vergil.” When he doesn’t react, she continues, “Please. You know me.”

She hears a faint grunt as he takes a step towards her. The massive sword takes up the distance between them as he holds it up. Its tip hovers just millimeters from her throat. “I can’t fight you. I’m not a threat. Why does he want you to kill me so badly?”

The tip presses to her throat, but just barely. A thin trickle of blood slides down her Adam’s apple. Mel presses back against the door as much as she can, trying not to panic. “You remember me. Some part of you remembers me. He sent you after me before but you didn’t do it. You didn’t want to. Somewhere underneath the armor and Mundus’s control is the boy I know. The one who likes to cook, and read, and snobbishly quote Blake at people. You protected me so many times, and… I think some part of you cared. Still cares. That’s why you couldn’t bring yourself to kill me last time.”

He pulls his sword back, gripping it with both hands. His foot shifts as he leans forward, intending to impale her and finish the job. Mel shuts her eyes and braces herself. She just hopes it’ll be quick. Faintly she hears Dante groan, his boots scraping against the floor as he tries to stand. She waits for the pain and the approach of death.

Nothing happens.

She dares to open her eyes after several seconds have gone by. Vergil still has his sword poised to strike, but he falters. His armor rattles; it takes Mel a moment to realize he’s shaking. He grunts in pain, and then he rears back. His hand grips his helmet tightly and he shouts, “No! No! NO!”

“Vergil-”

Suddenly, an accented voice shouts from outside, “Get back!”

Mel barely registers the warning before a dagger flies through the air and finds its mark. The blade sinks into one of the blue veins on Vergil’s armor. It adds to his pain, and he bellows in rage as he rips the dagger out. Just as he does, three more tear into him.

His newest assailant stands just inside the doorway, red hair pulled together in a braid that hangs over her shoulder. A white cloak covers most of her torso, save for her arms, which each hold a dagger. “If you’re going to beat up a girl, at least choose one that can defend herself!”

Vergil’s forced to turn his attention to her. He charges down the stairs and barrels towards her. The girl doesn’t move until the last second; she deftly ducks and rolls out of the reach of his sword. “Matier, now!”

From outside, a bright light flashes, nearly blinding. The entire inside of the shop is illuminated. Mel covers her eyes. The air suddenly shakes, and a powerful gust of air blows through. Over the din, Vergil screams in protest. Then he suddenly goes quiet, and everything stills.

Mel lowers her hands, only to find Vergil gone. Too many questions flood her mind, but her attention immediately goes to Dante, still lying beaten and battered on the floor. “Dante!” She hurries down the stairs and rushes to him. “Oh god. Are you-”

“M’fine,” he mutters. He cracks open an eye and points its gaze at the newcomers. “Who the hell are you?”

An elderly woman, slightly hunched over and supporting her weight on an ornate staff, slowly ambles into the shop. “Oh, my,” she murmurs. “It’s a good thing we decided to drive past here.”

The redhead kneels down next to Dante. “Forgive our sudden intrusion. Your friend was driving us from the airport when I sensed that demon. We came here as quickly as we could.”

Hurried footsteps approach from outside. Morrison runs into view, and his eyes widen in horror at the scene. “Mother of God. Dante, what the hell happened?!”

“My brother paid me a visit.”

“Wait.” The redhead looks between Mel and Dante. “That was him?”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Dante hisses, “until you answer my frickin’ question.”

The elder woman chuckles. “Ah, but we are being rude, aren’t we?” She gestures to the younger woman. “This is my daughter, Lucia, and I am Matier. Your friend reached out to us about your brother. But come, we must heal you and clean up, first. Once we’re settled, then we can talk more.” She gestures with her staff. “I suspect we all have many questions for each other.”

Chapter Text

Five A.M is normally a quiet time in Dante’s home, but not today. Morrison and Mel are gathered in his shop along with two strangers. The elder sits comfortably on Dante’s couch, her staff clutched in her hands. The younger leans against the wall near her mother, arms crossed and expression serious.

Dante’s back in his chair, his wounds closed up and the blood washed off. It’d be impossible to tell he got his shit kicked in less than an hour ago, if it weren’t for the state of the shop. His desk hasn’t been moved back to its original spot yet. His mother’s portrait has been put back in place, but he’s done nothing else to straighten up. Right now he can’t be bothered; he’s still steamed over what just happened. “So, these are the people you found,” he says to Morrison, sounding mildly skeptical.

“Your tone is not appreciated,” Lucia says. “Matier and I just saved you from your brother.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot this is the part where I’m supposed to weep tears of relief and thank you for your unasked-for help.”

“Dante.” Mel’s tone is sharp and reprimanding. “I get you’re pissed about what happened but don’t take it out on them.”

He crosses his arms and shrugs. “You came all this way here, so now what? You got a good look at what we’re dealing with.”

Matier nods. “Indeed we did. As unfortunate as it was, it proved a good opportunity. But let’s start at the beginning.” She looks at her staff. “I was able to banish your brother, but only temporarily. I have little doubt he will return in time. Mundus seems determined he fulfill his mission.” She turns to Mel. “You will never be safe. If your being here with Dante didn’t deter him, nothing will.”

“I don’t get it. Why me? I’m not a threat.”

“Oh, but you are. Not physically, no, but in other ways. I was told Vergil tried to kill you before but stopped himself. And you said earlier that he pulled back again when Lucia and I arrived. Some part of Vergil’s will remains. Mundus cannot completely control him while it does. If he eliminates you, that means what remains of Vergil will be gone.”

Dante quietly turns those words over in his head. Vergil had remembered himself, not when they fought or when Dante teased him, but when Mel got through to him. Granted, he hadn’t tried all that hard, but he didn’t believe words would work. They never did. Yet again, Mel’s toppling his preconceived notions about Vergil. Though he was a Dante pancake on the ground when Vergil cornered Mel, he remembers what she said about him:

“Somewhere underneath the armor and Mundus’s control is the boy I know. The one who likes to cook, and read, and snobbishly quote Blake at people. You protected me so many times, and… I think some part of you cared. Still cares.”

In the face of everything that’s happened and that he’s heard, he can only conclude, Maybe I really don’t know my brother after all.

“Dante? Earth to Dante.”

He lifts his head up, trying not to look like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh…”

Mel huffs out a sigh. “Try to focus. Lucia and Matier were just telling us about what their plan was to help Vergil.”

Dante gestures for them to continue.

Matier explains, “There are two possibilities, though one is more ideal. The first would be to locate Mundus’s hideout in the human world and confront Vergil there. It would ostensibly give Mundus nowhere to snatch Vergil back to. However… I am certain you can think of the cons of that scenario.”

“I’m hoping that’s the unideal one,” Dante says with a frown. Does he want to fight Mundus? Yes… and no. Does he want to have to fight Mundus and Vergil? Not really. He loves a challenge but even he knows that would not end well for him.

“Yes. The second option would be to bring Vergil to us.”

“Won’t be hard. He’ll probably show up again if Mundus is that bent on killing Mel.”

“Most likely, but we don’t know how long that will take. Time is not on our side; I fear for how much longer Vergil will still be able to maintain his will. I doubt he will be polite enough to strike at a moment when we’re prepared. No, we cannot leave that to chance.”

“Then what do we do? Send an invitation in the mail?” Dante scoffs. “I’ll crack out my nice stationary just for the occasion.”

Lucia pins him with a glare. “Do not mock Matier! Do you think we’d have come all this way if we didn’t have a plan?”

Matier chuckles and reaches over to pat Lucia’s arm. “No need to bristle. We all cope in our own ways.” Her attention returns to Dante as she continues, “We would need to summon him.”

He balks at the idea. “Summ – like, draw a summoning circle and do weird magic?”

Even Mel seems a little off-put. “That’s… I thought that was just a thing in movies. You’re saying we could actually summon him like one summons a demon?”

“Precisely. That in and of itself isn’t difficult if you know what to do. But that would only be the first step. Since Mundus is able to withdraw him at will, we would also need to bind him.” When she sees Mel’s eyes widen, she clarifies, “In the sense of binding him to this world, not physically bind him with ties. However, given Vergil’s strength and Mundus’s power, I doubt we could bind him permanently.”

Dante doesn’t like the sound of that. “Then all this will be on a timer.”

Matier nods. “I’m afraid so. That will not make things any easier, but we must make do with the cards we’re given.”

“What happens once he’s bound?” Mel glances back and forth between mother and daughter. “How do we free him from Mundus?”

“Not easily.” Matier sighs, and her jovial tone gives way to solemnity. “That will be the hard part. It will ultimately be up to Vergil. He is the one who will have to fight. All we can do is try to reach him and help him fight.”

“This is a gamble,” Dante murmurs. “And we’re only gonna get one shot at this. Mundus’ll make sure we don’t get another.” The demon emperor sees his brother as useful, but Dante has little doubt that if it came down to it, Mundus would kill Vergil before he let him go.

“I wish I had a guaranteed way, but I fear that gamble is our only hope.” Matier stands, using her staff as support. “Let us continue this later today. We all are quite exhausted, and it’s nearly dawn.”

Mel stands, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. “Yeah. Um, give us a call later when you’re ready to meet again.”

They exchange quiet good-byes. Morrison gives Dante’s shoulder a squeeze, then leaves after Matier and Lucia without further word.

A heavy silence follows in their departure. Mel and Dante stare the other down, their eyes conveying what both are too afraid to say.

“I’m going to try and get some sleep.” Mel begins walking to the stairs, but pauses halfway and turns around. “It’ll… It’ll be okay.” The hope in her voice doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but she puts on a brave smile. “See you later.”

Dante just nods, watching her until she disappears into his bedroom. Alone, he lets the mask drop. He leans forward and holds his head in his hands. He wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to beat his brother senseless. He wants to save him from this fate. His emotions spiral, twisting and churning in his chest until they stick themselves into a logjam in his throat. He quickly leaves his desk and heads for the basement. Whatever is gonna happen, he wants to do it out of earshot.

There’s little in the basement; he hasn’t been here long enough to accumulate a lot of stuff. Dante’s breath hitches and he stumbles to the side of the room. “Fuck,” he hisses as he slams his fist against the wall.

A part of him always knew that this might end in failure. He still had hoped (and so did Mel, he suspects) that whatever help Morrison found would give them a strong chance to save Vergil. In hindsight, it was rather naïve. Now faced with these odds, a realization creeps in: he and Mel are gonna be on their own with Enea. Dante had plans about being the fun uncle, and he still will be, but that might not be enough. He said he would drag Vergil back to “play dad” but it may fall on Dante to “play dad.” Because Mel shouldn’t have to raise him alone, and the kid deserves some kind of male figure in his life.

“Why’s it always gotta be me cleaning up after everyone?!” Dante punches the wall again, bashing in the drywall. “He’s supposed to be the older, responsible one! Yet here I am, trying to save his ass and take care of his kid.”

From the corner of his vision, he sees a glint of metal. His frown deepens into a glare as he looks over. Force Edge sits on top of a shelf, purposely separated from the other Devil Arms upstairs. “That goes for you, too. You caused all this trouble and did all these things that I’m now saddled with. All your enemies are now mine, whether I want them to be or not. And you aren’t even around to help!” He’s long harbored resentment towards his father, but today’s events have amplified it. “Where were you when we got attacked and we lost Mom? Where were you when Vergil and I were alone? You probably went and got yourself killed somehow, and weren’t there to keep your oldest in line. Now he’s in deep shit and again, where the fuck were you?”

Silence answers him, though he hardly expected anything else. “Hmph.” Dante sneers at the sword before he turns away. “What good is being your son when it’s caused me nothing but problems? And Vergil, too.”

Now he’s too worked up to sleep. Dante had wanted to try and get in a few winks, but he’ll just stew over it more. Suddenly he marches up to Force Edge and grabs it. He twirls it in his hand as he stares at the other end of the room. “No point in bitching about it. If I’m gonna fight Vergil like that again, I need to get faster.” He holds out the sword in front of him. “And you can help me train. At least it’ll make you useful for once.”

As he makes a few warm-up swings, his senses suddenly go on alert. Dante freezes. It almost feels like there’s a demon around, but something tells him that’s not quite true. He closes his eyes and focuses. Where is it coming from? Who is it? He reaches out with his senses to find the source.

For a split second, a presence overwhelms him. His breath hitches as he stumbles back. As soon as it had come, it disappears, but Dante felt it for long enough to know. It’s one he has not felt in almost thirteen years: his father’s.

“What the hell?” He looks down at Force Edge. “Was it…” Realizing how ridiculous this line of thought is, he snorts and shrugs it off. “That’s what I get for barely sleeping. If you’re done screwing with my head, we’ve got some work to do.”

Mel hardly sleeps more than Dante does. Restless thoughts keep her up, and they wake her when she does manage to drift off. Enea eventually delivers her attempt at sleep the final blow when he wakes up and fusses for food.

The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 9:54 A.M. Mel sighs as she leans back against the pillows and nurses Enea. “What are we gonna do?” she murmurs. Tears threaten to form, but this time she fights them back. She’s sick of crying. “I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to save your dad,” she says to her son. “We’re gonna do everything we can, but…” She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence: You might not get to meet your father.

A rush of anger tears through her. “That asshole!” she seethes. “Why did he have to be so stupid? Why did he go down there? Did he think no one would-” Her rant crashes to a halt. “…that no one would care what happened to him. But I guess he wouldn’t.” Her shoulders sag at the thought. “I doubt he thinks Dante cares about him, and after the way we parted, he probably thinks I’ve wiped my hands of him. It’s not like he knows about you either. The rest of his family is gone, and I very much doubt he has any pen pals.” He’s almost as alone in the world as she is. It’s part of what drew her to him, having someone around who knows what it’s like to have no one. “Why stick around if you think no one would care whether you stayed or went?”

Mel shifts Enea to her other breast, huffing out a laugh as he whines in complaint. “You’re as impatient as your dad,” she teases him. “Not his best trait, but certainly not his worst either.” She smooths some hair from his face. “Let’s hope you didn’t get any of those.” A heavy realization suddenly slams into her: Enea’s a spitting image of his father, and he may have some of his personality as well. What will it be like to watch him grow up, to see those parts of Vergil emerge? He will be a constant reminder of him. Mel lets out a shaky sigh. “Don’t think about that right now. It’s not like it’s hopeless,” she reminds herself. “Cross that bridge if we come to it.”

A little while later, Mel emerges with Enea in tow. She adjusts the hood of the little bear onesie she put him in. Just as she looks to see if Dante’s in the living room, the phone rings. Dante picks it up and answers, “Who am I talking to?”

Mel cocks her head to the side. Dante’s wet, clearly having just got out of the shower. It strikes her as a little odd, as he normally takes his showers at night. What’s stranger still is the sword propped up against his desk. It isn’t Rebellion, but rather one she hasn’t seen before.

She walks down the steps and waits for him to finish. When he hangs up the receiver, she asks, “Was that them?”

“Yep. They’re gonna be over around noon. Said they’re bringing lunch, so at least we’ll get fed.”

“Oh, good. As long as it isn’t pizza.” She ignores his annoyed “Hey!” and instead focuses on the sword. “I didn’t know you had another one.”

His playful annoyance turns into genuine annoyance. “It was my father’s.”

“Wait, that’s his legendary sword?” Mel approaches it, examining it closely. “I thought it’d be bigger.”

“This isn’t it’s real form. I don’t know how to get it to turn into the real deal, but whatever. It does the job.”

Mel notices Enea looking at the blade. She smiles and says, “That’s your grandfather’s sword. Maybe you’ll get to use it when you’re older. It’ll be nice to have something of his, though you’ll be hearing a lot about him as you grow up.”

“Poor kid,” Dante mutters in a sour tone. “He gets to look forward to demons hating him and shouting about how he has traitor’s blood or whatever.”

“…call it a hunch, but I get the feeling you’re not fond of your father.” A far cry from Vergil, marking yet another thing they’re completely opposite on.

“No, I’m not fond of the guy who disappeared without a word and wasn’t there for us when we needed him the most.”

Mental note: daddy issues. Mel decides to just nod and let it drop there. She reaches out and runs a finger along the hilt, curious about how it would feel to hold it. She’s never used a sword before. Giving into curiosity, her hand wraps around the hilt.

“It’ll be all right.” The words resound in her head. With a gasp Mel lets go of the sword and steps back in alarm.

Dante furrows his brow. “What?”

Was that…? She’d almost forgotten about the dream, with everything that had happened. She had no sane way of explaining it, so she just shakes her head. “N – Nothing.” She smiles to dispel the tension. “If we’ve got company coming over then we should clean up in here. Or, I should, and you can take the baby.”

“Sure, I’ll entertain him.”

Mel walks over and hands Enea to him. “You hang out with Uncle Dante while I make this place look bordering on presentable.”

“C’mere, scamp.” Dante makes a bewildered noise when he holds him. “You dressed him up like a teddy bear.”

“Yeah! Isn’t he cute?”

Dante leans in close to the baby. “Remind me to get you something cool later so not all your clothes make you look like something that escaped from a zoo.”

“Hey!” Mel playfully smacks his shoulder. “He’s a baby, he’s supposed to be cute! Shove the masculinity crap up your bumhole.”

“He can be cool, too!”

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes and begins to look for the scant cleaning supplies his shop has. “Men,” she mutters. Mild irritation aside, she’s grateful for the distraction. Better to focus on the real and tangible, rather than a voice from a dream.

Chapter Text

The plan is fairly straightforward, consisting of three distinct parts: the summoning, the binding, and the fight. The first two should be relatively easy, and with several people involved, it should take no time at all. Well, that’s assuming they can find all the components they need, which has become obstacle number one.

“We need what now?” Mel asks.

“Ignis Fatuus. It is an amalgamation of condemned souls condensed into an orb,” Matier explains. “As unsettling as it sounds, it serves as a source of energy. There are other ones we could use, but the Ignis Fatuus would be best. We’ll also need items connected to Vergil for the summoning, but those should be easier to acquire.”

“Where would we even find that?”

“In the Underworld, typically. Ascertaining its exact location will be difficult, but-”

Dante cuts her off with a wave of his hand. He then gestures for them to wait as he finishes stuffing his face with chicken curry. Once he swallows, he says, “I know where it is.”

“Oh? That’s very fortunate.”

“Bad news: it’s buried somewhere under the Temen-ni-gru. Or what’s left of it.” He pauses and frowns. “Actually, it should still be in Leviathan. No idea what they did with the carcass.”

Lucia scrunches her nose. “Is that what that gigantic fleshy sack was? We saw it from the plane.”

“That answers my question.” Dante doesn’t particularly want to go back there. In fact, he’s made it a point not to since that night. There’s a rotten irony to it that he doesn’t appreciate. “I can sneak in tonight and try to find it. Probably gonna be a long, slow search.”

“Certainly by yourself it will be.” Lucia sounds apologetic as she adds, “I would go with you to aid the search, but I will be needed here. Matier and I -”

Matier gently taps Lucia with her staff. “Oh, Lucia. I can handle a binding spell on my own. Do you think me so frail?”

“Of course not, it’s just-”

Another tap, this time with a little more force applied. “You’re young, able-bodied, and you hardly ever spend time with people your age. This will be a perfect chance. Dante needs a second set of eyes far more than I need assistance. And even if I do, I have Melanie here.”

Mel gives Matier a deer-in-headlights look. “I don’t – it’s not that I don’t want to help, I just don’t… know… about that stuff…”

“You undid seals and stuff back in Fortuna, right?” Dante shrugs, feeling her hesitation is unnecessary. “This won’t be all that different.”

“And no better time to learn than the present,” Matier adds with a smile. “I think you’ll quite enjoy it once you get the hang of it.”

“Okay…” Mel doesn’t sound entirely convinced, but she’s accepted it for now. “Are you two going to be enough to scour that place?” she asks Dante and Lucia. “I’d be less help there than here, but that’s a lot of ground for just two people.”

Dante’s of the same mind. Time isn’t on their side, and digging through what’s left of Leviathan and the Temen-ni-gru promises to waste a lot of that precious commodity. “It is. Which is why I’m gonna loop in some more help.” A swift kick knocks the phone receiver into the air. As he dials in a number, he says to Matier, “Is there more of that curry left?”

She rummages through the takeout bag. “I’d say about a portion or so.”

“No one eat that,” he says as he finishes dialing. “I’m going to need the bribe.”

The last trickles of sunlight disappear over the horizon. Dante peers out from his hiding spot in the ruins of Slum Avenue’s strip club. He listens, then leans over and says to someone on the roof, “See anyone?”

“Negative,” Lucia answers, popping her head over the edge. “We’re in the clear.”

“And it’s dark enough for us to slip in. Let’s go.”

Lucia hops down, daggers at the ready and eager to go. Standing across from Dante is his second helper, who’s far less enthusiastic than Lucia. Lady scowls at Dante and mutters, “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“You got a free dinner out of it!”

“Hardly fair compensation for having to hike into those ruins.”

“You could have said no.”

She blows out an irritated sigh. “I know, and I can’t remember why I didn’t.” Kalina Ann is slung over her shoulder as she leaves her perch. “Let’s get this over with.”

The trio sets off. Scaling crumbled stone and twisted metal, they make the treacherous, slow journey into the ruins of the Temen-ni-gru. Dante says little, unused to traveling with company. The ruins bring back too many unpleasant memories, and he’d rather battle them in silence. Lucia doesn’t talk much either, only occasionally pointing something out or wondering what a particular piece of debris once was. Then there’s Lady, the one who does most of the talking, most of which is complaining. Her sour mood hangs over them like a dreary little raincloud, and it’s taking Dante everything in his power not to tell her to shut up. As they travel in deeper, the lights from the city disappear, leaving them in pitch black. Only Dante’s heightened senses and the Maglite Lady brought along make the journey remotely safe, or even possible at all. Still, it doesn’t happen without a couple minor mishaps.

“Shit!” Lady snaps after one such mishap, namely her accidentally whacking her knee into a small piece of rebar sticking out of the rubble. She hisses as she aims her flashlight to examine her knee. “This was not worth some chicken curry.”

Lucia walks over and hands Lady a bandage. “I suspected these might be needed.” She offers to hold the flashlight as Lady wraps up the wound. As she does, she asks, “Are you certain Dante didn’t force you to do this?”

“Like he actually could make me do anything.”

“Yet you act like he did.”

Lady narrows her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lucia sighs. “I’m just pointing out that you seem miserable. This is certainly no pleasant walk in the woods, but you have been quite combative from the start. Why come if you didn’t want to?”

Dante, who at least has enough self-preservation to keep quiet, watches uneasily from his (probably) safe vantage point. A muscle in Lady’s jaw twitches, and he expects a fight to break out imminently.

But then, without warning, her anger fizzles out. Lady blows out a breath and says, “I guess I’ve been complaining a lot. No, I didn’t want to come, but I felt I should.”

Feeling it might be safe to chime in, Dante says, “Is it because of the other day?”

Lady finishes wrapping her knee and hands the remaining bandages back to Lucia. “I feel bad, okay?” Arms crossed and tone defensive, it’s clear she’s not comfortable having this conversation. Despite that, she continues, “The thought of helping Vergil in any way pisses me off, but it needs to be done. And I was a jerk to Mel. So I thought maybe this could make up for it.”

“Mel will appreciate it. She certainly wasn’t happy for a couple of days after her blow-up.”

“…is she still mad at you?”

“Hard to say. We kind of talked it out, but then Vergil showed up. Not sure where it’s left us.” She doesn’t seem to be upset, but that could just be because they’ve had company. “It’s whatever right now. Let’s get going. We’re on a timer.”

The next hour or so goes by in relative silence. Most of it is spent trying to find one dead Leviathan, a task that turns out to take longer than expected. One would think finding a big, smelly carcass would be easy, but the tower had fallen on top of the body, burying it under tons of rubble. A few good blasts from the Kalina Ann would hasten unearthing it, but loud explosions are not conducive to what’s meant to be a stealth operation. It forces Dante to hack and bash at the rubble. The women assist when they can, but Dante’s forced to shoulder the majority of the heavy labor.

After a lengthy excavation, Dante finally uncovers part of the beast. Luckily, what he finds is the pierced eyeball he exited from after he killed it weeks ago. “Finally.”

Lady scrunches her nose. “Great, now we’re going to smell like blood the whole way back.”

Even Lucia looks a little put-off. “Are you certain it’s in here?”

“It’s where I left it,” he says before he hacks at the eyeball, widening the opening. “Hope you don’t have a sensitive gag reflex.”

“Ugh.” Lady tentatively steps towards the eyeball. “Do you have an idea of where in here you left it?”

“In the heart chamber, but who knows what that looks like now.” Dante steps aside. “Ladies first.”

Lady glares at him, but she goes inside without further complaint. Lucia follows behind. Within seconds they’re both coughing and gagging. Dante takes a deep breath of fresh air before he dives in after them.

A few weeks of decay has not done Leviathan’s insides any favors. It reeks, to the point that even Dante fights to not retch as he leads them further inside. The walls have partially collapsed in some areas, cutting off passageways Dante had used. They’re forced to find alternate routes, extending an already unpleasant (at best) trip through the gigantic corpse.

It takes far longer than any of them would like, but eventually they stumble upon the large chamber that once housed Leviathan’s heart, before Dante smashed it. The bloated, rotten remains of the organ lie strewn on the floor. “This is it. I think it sank after I used it.”

He and the girls pick through the floor, toeing aside slimy organic chunks in search of the orb. Dante tries to remember where exactly the barrier had been, but it proves fruitless. He reasons that even if he could remember, there’s no guarantee the Ignis Fatuus would still be there. The gigantic demon had fallen and crashed, and then it’s been decaying for weeks. There’s no telling where the thing wound up after it was all said and done.

Lucia carefully drags one of her daggers across the floor. The blade sinks in a few inches, cutting up the flesh. The only thing in here it wouldn’t be able to slice through is the orb. Lady copies her technique with the Kalina Ann’s blade. Their blades zig-zag around the chamber, exposing the floor. Dante has half a mind to do the same with Rebellion. Just as he draws it out and looks for a spot they haven’t searched, Lucia’s dagger makes a metallic clink. She yanks it up and shoves her hand into the spot, her face mildly disgusted but otherwise unruffled by digging around in part of a demon’s corpse. Her eyes light up and she grunts. She tugs a few times before her hand suddenly frees itself. She stumbles back from the sudden shift in momentum but remains on her feet. In her hand is a metallic orb, though it’s hard to tell its color from all the rotten flesh covering it. “I think this is it!”

Dante, the only one there who’s ever seen it before, walks over to take a look. He wipes off some of the gunk. Underneath it is Ignis Fatuus’ distinct blue glow. “Good catch.”

“Finally,” Lady heaves out with a sigh. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Reinvigorated by their find and the overwhelming desire to leave the place, the three of them hoof it out of there in half the time. They all but fling themselves through the eyeball when they reach it. They stumble out, gulping down air and coughing up the foulness they had been breathing in for well over an hour. “That,” Lady starts as she points at Leviathan, “is the only time I am ever going in there. Never again.”

“I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be back there either.” Dante wipes unrecognizable fleshy bits off his coat. “But hey, now you can say you helped.”

Lady’s disgust and irritation fall by the wayside, giving way to a thoughtful frown. “Dante, I’ve been thinking about it, and… I should be there when you fight Vergil.”

“We both should be,” Lucia tacks on. “You were defeated when you fought him last. The more help the better.”

“That’s because he caught me off-guard, and I couldn’t go all out with Mel and Enea right upstairs.” Which isn’t untrue, but deep down Dante knows that’s not the entire reason. “I can handle him-”

Lady shoves his shoulder. “Are you really going to let your pride get in the way of this? You’re only going to get one shot at saving him. The odds are against you. You should be doing everything you can to stack the deck in your favor. In Vergil’s favor.” She scoffs. “He’s going to need all the help he can get.”

The reminder of who this is for and what’s at stake knocks enough sense into Dante to make him reconsider. After all, if this fails, he’s not the one who’s going to pay for it. “Okay, you got me there.” He fully plans on doing the vast majority of the battling, but having backup can’t hurt. “This isn’t gonna be the usual kind of fight. Defeating him isn’t gonna save him.”

“We have to make him remember who he is.” Lucia adjusts her gloves as she continues, “I cannot help with that, but I can at least help hold him back. You must find a way to reach him. You and Mel.”

“Mel can’t be there! She’s the one he’s after.”

“She’s the only one who’s gotten through to him. I saw it that morning.”

Lady’s eyes widen. “Wait, she managed to do that? What happened?”

Dante shoves his hands into his pockets, his frown deepening. “He… he remembered, I guess. She talked to him as he went to kill her, trying to make him remember himself. ‘The boy she knows’.” The part of his brother he never knew existed. “It worked. He stopped and started shouting ‘no’. Dunno what would have happened after that, because she came flying in then,” he says, pointing a thumb at Lucia. “All the same… it sounds like he still cares about her.”

“Hard to picture him caring about anyone other than himself.”

“You’re telling me.” Dante had thought him rather incapable as well. Selfish, uncaring, cruel: these are just a few of the charges he’s laid against his brother. History only ever proved him right. And while he may not be wrong – Vergil has certainly been all of those things – he also isn’t entirely right. It’s a hard pill to swallow, yet if he’s to keep his family together, he must. “But… he does. Mel keeps proving me wrong and at some point, I gotta own to it. Besides, I’d like to meet her Vergil. He doesn’t sound completely unbearable.”

Lady makes a considering noise. “I mean… do you think he’d let us? You two just start hacking at each other the moment you see the other. And he and I aren’t exactly chummy.”

“Hey, I’m a responsible cool uncle. I’m not gonna beat the shit out of Enea’s dad in front of him.” He pauses, then mutters, “Also pretty sure Mel would kill us both.”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“Yeah, but we have to save his stupid ass first. Come on, let’s get back.”

She’s pulling a prank on me, she has to be. “Um… this is it?” Mel stares incredulously at Matier.

She nods absentmindedly; presently she’s more occupied with smiling and cooing at Enea.

“This seems… um…”

“Something the matter?”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m struggling to believe that this thing,” Mel holds up the object in question, a three-inch needle with a ball-tipped end. “is enough to put a binding spell on Vergil.”

Matier wiggles her fingers at Enea. The infant just stares, as if flummoxed by this strange wrinkly lady. “The object hardly matters. It’s the magic that determines the effectiveness and strength.”

“Vergil’s really strong, so I would think it’d take a lot of power to bind him. Can this thing contain that?”

“You’ll see.” Matier shuffles over to Mel, begrudgingly giving up on entertaining the baby to do some work. “Watch carefully.”

Mel had pictured a complicated process, with lots of chanting and spellcasting. What she finds, to her slight disappointment, is that it isn’t that difficult. In just a few minutes, Matier shows her how to cast a binding spell and how to store it in an object for later use.

“And there you have it.” Matier gently places the pin on Dante’s desk. “Lucia or Dante will have to pierce him with it, but I’m sure they can manage.”

“Yeah...”

“Well now, that didn’t sound terribly convincing.” Matier settles down onto the couch, her staff perched against the arm. She regards Mel with a soft smile. “You have doubts?”

So many. Mel digs for some shred of optimism; she tries to see the good in everything, and she knows she needs to find a way here. Fear’s gripped her tightly, and it darkens her thoughts. “What… what are our chances? Really?” Her eyes are trained on the floor. She feels shame for doubting Matier, who’s come such a long way to help. “I just… I need to know if I should prepare for the worst.”

“I wish I could guarantee the outcome we want, but I can’t. This is Vergil’s battle, and he will have to fight it. What we are doing here is giving him the chance to.” Matier gestures for Mel to come sit next to her. As Mel moves from the desk to the spot next to Matier, the elder continues, “Do you not believe he can succeed?”

“I just don’t know if this will be enough. What if Mundus still pulls him back? What if – what if I can’t get through?”

“What we’re doing tonight will ensure Mundus can’t call him back, if only for a time. And you will get through to him. You have before and you will again. Have faith in yourself. Have faith in him.”

“I… I want to. But he’s – I’ve been burned before for believing in him.” Mel sniffles. All the pain and anger from last July resurfaces. The words they threw at each other, the desperate pleas for him not to go, his stone-faced resolve as he left… all those memories replay in her mind. She doesn’t realize how hard she’s clenching her teeth until she snaps out of her reverie. She sucks in a breath and says, “I’m being unfair, aren’t I? This isn’t the same.”

Matier pats her hand. “No, it isn’t the same, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong for feeling that way. Given how he must have left – and what you were left with soon after – your anger is more than justified. And yet, when you realized he was in trouble, you traveled across the world with a newborn and threw everything you had at finding the one person who might have been able to help. You had no reassurance that he could, or if he would even believe you. But you came anyway.”

“Of course I did, I couldn’t just…” Mel struggles to find the words. So many feelings spin around in her head in a tornado that makes it nearly impossible to pin down her thoughts. “I had to help him. But I – I must be an idiot for caring.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“You saw what he did out there. He’s – only a monster would do something like that, right? And he’s an asshole, and selfish, and narrowminded, and so – so…” She grits her teeth, fighting to keep her breathing even. “Yet when Dante or anyone talks badly about him – about things that he did and deserves censure for – I get so angry. Some of it was making light of our relationship, but it’s more than just that. It’s… I know what Vergil is like. I’m not in denial about it, but… it hurts to hear people put him down constantly. But it shouldn’t, right? Because he did do horrible things and he’s – he’s a horrible person. He has to be, because how else could he have done those things? And what does it say about me that I still…?”

Matier quietly takes in her words, in all their disjointed and emotional chaos. When Mel trails off, words failing her again, Matier takes her hand and gently clasps it in hers. “Are those terrible things all that he did? Was that all your time was together: one atrocity after another?”

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t have…” Mel realizes where Matier is going with this. “But does that still make it okay?”

“Does it make it okay that you love him, you mean?”

Love. The word knocks the air out of her lungs. She never even considered that. “Do… I?” She poses the question not just to Matier, but to herself as well. The word floats in her mind, a puzzle piece that she tries against the very complicated jigsaw that is her feelings towards Vergil. To her astonishment, it fits. “…I… do. Oh god, I… that’s even…”

“You love that young man. That very complicated, troubled man. We can sit here and believe that we aren’t capable of doing something like what he did, but all humans – even half-humans – are capable of great evil. They are equally as capable of doing great good. Who’s to say none of us wouldn’t do the same, if our circumstances and beliefs set us on a similar path? And that’s the troubling part, isn’t it? Not just that we can care about and love such a person, but that we may be capable of being a monster, too.”

“How do I reconcile that?”

“By accepting that we all have light and dark within us. Those like Vergil have buried their light, but it is still there. You’ve managed to uncover some of it. The memories of your time spent together and your feelings are evidence of that. It isn’t your responsibility to try and make him find that light again, but you can give him a reason to want to. You and your little boy.”

Mel inhales a shaky breath, nearly overwrought with emotion. It’s a lot to take in at once, but she knows she needs to hear this. “I just hope he does. I hope we’re enough.”

“I believe he will. Only a fool would give you two up, especially a second time.” Matier looks at Force Edge, propped up against the far back wall. “He’s Sparda’s son. While he certainly hasn’t made the best decisions, if there’s anything of his father in him, he’ll choose the right thing.”

“That’s right, you knew him.” Mel leans over and checks on Enea. The little one’s half dozing off; it’s getting near his bedtime. She gently lifts him up and holds him close, angling herself so Matier can get a good look at him. “What was he like?”

“Vergil and Dante haven’t told you anything?”

“Sort of, but they’re not exactly unbiased. Vergil puts him on a pedestal, and Dante resents him.”

“Hmm. I see. I can’t claim to have deep knowledge of his inner workings, but from my experience, Sparda was a complicated man in his own right. He could be charming and lighthearted, but in a blink of an eye he could be serious and inward facing. He frustrated me at times. Yet he also captivated me.”

Mel cocks an eyebrow. “Did you, uh…?”

Matier smiles slyly. “Like I said, he could be quite charming. And he was very handsome, too.”

“His sons have that in spades.” Mel lets out a wistful sigh. “Asshole or not, Vergil’s a good-looking one. You should see him without a shirt on.”

Matier laughs and squeezes Mel’s hand. “That’s why I sympathize with your situation. I don’t think either of his sons are quite the ladies’ man their father was, but if they have even a sliver of his charm, they could still be quite devastating.”

“Vergil can be, when he wants to. And Dante’s capable of it, too, but he’s been more well-behaved around me.” She looks down at Enea. “Time will tell if he does.”

“Oh I’d say he already is. Look at those little cheeks.”

As Matier coos at him, Mel’s attention is drawn to Force Edge. Ever since she touched it and heard that voice, she’s been battling with herself. A part of her wants to stay far away from it, but another part wants to test it and see if she hears it again. “Matier, I don’t know how well versed you are on the subject but… that’s a Devil Arm, right? It was Sparda’s.”

“Ah, yes. A weakened, duller form of his true sword.”

“Don’t Devil Arms have a consciousness? Or at least are kind of sentient?”

“Many are, yes. They are a demon’s soul morphed into a weapon.”

“But… Force Edge couldn’t be like that, right? Sparda isn’t in there. He can’t be.”

Matier taps her finger against her lips, humming in thought. “A good question. Simply put, no, he isn’t in there. Not entirely. But I wouldn’t be surprised if something of him remains.”

“…how?”

“That sword was once the devil sword Sparda. It shares his name because it is an extension of him, of his power and will. Even if it is not the sword it once was, I do not think that would break the connection between the two.”

Mel frowns. If that’s true, then… was that…?

“Why do you ask?”

“Uh… no reason. Just curious.” She isn’t quite ready to admit that she’s been hearing a voice in her head, not even to Matier. “Anyway, I should get him to bed. It’s getting late.” As she rises to her feet, she glances down at Matier and adds, “Thank you for listening and talking with me. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. I just… I haven’t had anyone I could really talk to about that.”

“I’m always happy to lend an ear.” Matier smiles at the baby and waves her hand in good-bye. “Sleep well. We’re going to need the rest. If all goes well… tomorrow may be the big day.”

Nerves make Mel’s stomach turn. Tomorrow. It’ll be happening tomorrow. It makes sense; the longer they wait, the higher the chance that Mundus will take steps to tighten his hold on Vergil, or to send him after Mel before they’re ready. Once everything is in place, all there’ll be left to do is carry out their plan. Vergil’s fate will be decided. From that moment on, Enea will either grow up knowing his father, or he’ll have nothing of him but stories, and his mother and uncle’s regrets.

Chapter Text

The following morning finds everyone back inside Dante’s shop. Ignis Fatuus, now washed off, sits ominously on Dante’s desk. The binding needle lies next to it. “Well done.” Matier nods approvingly. “The binding is ready, and we have the energy source for the summoning. Now we just need the other components.”

Dante, blurry-eyed and barely awake, yawns before he mutters, “Why didn’t you say we needed more?”

“I did. I said we needed Ignis Fatuus, as well as items connected to Vergil. The former took precedence, as I anticipated it would be harder to find.”

Curled up on the couch with Enea, Mel gently coaxes him to suck on his pacifier. “Connected to Vergil in what way? If things that belonged to him are needed, that’s going to be impossible.”

“They don’t need to have necessarily belonged to him. They just need to share a connection.” Matier points at Dante with her staff. “Firstly, we need something of his essence. Blood is always a safe bet. Given that you are his twin, your blood should be sufficient.”

“Nice to know I’m acceptable substitute for my brother,” Dante says dryly.

Mel huffs out a laugh. She gets up and hands Enea to Dante. “Here, have a baby.”

“Uh, sure but-”

“Because you’re crankier than the baby on a bad day. Holding him will cheer you up.”

He snorts as Mel lays the baby in his arms. It works; within seconds, a smile’s pulling at his lips. “Hey, scamp.”

Enea contentedly sucks on his pacifier. He gets cozy in his uncle’s arms and nods off, more than happy to nap while snuggled up with family.

Mel brushes her fingers over his hair. “See? All better.” She gestures to Matier. “Sorry for interrupting. What else do you think we should get?”

“Never apologize for a baby interruption.” Matier next points her staff at Mel. “Something from you would be prudent, too.”

“You think so?”

“Can you think of a reason why that wouldn’t be so?”

Mel considers it. Sometimes she wonders if Vergil never cared at all, but she knows that’s her pain and self-doubt talking. If he never cared, he would have killed her weeks ago. “No, you’re right. Do I… have to give blood too?”

“Nothing so drastic, unless you want. A lock of your hair should be enough.”

“So, a piece of me, a drop of Dante… what else?”

“That’s where it’s tricky. The components needed for a summoning are not an exact science.”

Lucia adds, “The stronger the association with Vergil, the better. So anything that he really liked, or things from people he was connected to…”

“He loves William Blake,” Mel says. “I can try and find a cheap copy of a book of his poems.” She glances at Dante. “Do you have anything of your parents? That you’re willing to give up, obviously. A picture of them, anything like that?”

The mention of picture draws everyone’s attention to Eva’s photo on his desk. As if he could read their minds, he snaps, “That’s the only copy I have.”

“Why don’t we photocopy it? Or take a picture of it? I mean, as long as it’s representative of her it should work, right, Matier?”

“Yes. Does anyone have a camera?”

Quiet until now, Morrison, who’s been there mostly to listen and keep tabs on what’s going on, pipes up, “I got a Polaroid camera back at my office. I can run and grab that.”

“You’re the man, Morrison.” Dante looks down as Enea suddenly shifts and whines. “What, you disagree?” he asks jokingly. “You got any better ideas? Well start sharing, it’s your pops we’re trying to rescue here.”

Even Lucia can’t help but smile. “If it weren’t so dangerous, and we weren’t trying to keep his existence a secret from Mundus, I’d say we just show Enea to Vergil. The cuteness alone would overwhelm him.”

“And give him a goddamn heart attack at the same time.” Dante pauses, and then says to Mel, “You figure out how you’re gonna tell him, if this works?”

“No,” Mel answers sheepishly. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’m… kind of afraid to start planning for that and then be… you know.” That’s not a train of thought she wants to continue. She quickly adds with forced cheer, “I’ll just have to wing it. And you know, after what he did, I think he deserves a heart attack.”

“Just let me be there when you do, because I wanna see the look on his face.” Dante leans back in his chair. “So, we got my blood, Mel’s hair, a book of poems, a photo of a photo of my mom… is that gonna be enough?”

Matier shakes her head. “No, we need one more.”

“Hmm.” Mel racks her brain. Vergil’s always been so bent on power, so that seems the obvious choice, but what could they use to represent that? “Maybe a Power Bar?” she jokes.

Dante answers with a deep frown, but he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her. Mel falls quiet as she watches him shift Enea to one arm, freeing the other to open one of his desk drawers. He rifles around in it for a second until he stops and pulls out a glove. He tosses it onto the table. The glove doesn’t seem to be anything special, save for the tear across the palm. “That should work.”

“Was it his?” Mel asks.

“No. But there’s a tie, and that’s all I’m saying.”

Mental note: apparently this glove is also somehow a touchy subject. Mel can only hope that maybe someday, she can ask Vergil the significance behind it.

“Then we know what we need.” Matier looks between Dante and Mel. “Remember, we must remind him of who he is. Anything you can bring to help jog his memory will only help.”

Mel’s lips twist into a frown. She has little in the way of any physical mementos from him. “I… like to wear plaid. I’ll put on one of my plaid shirts, that might help. But I don’t really have anything else.”

“I’ve got that covered.” Dante lifts up the pendant around his neck. “You’ve probably seen his, right?”

“Yeah, though not often. Your mother gave those to you, right?”

“For our eighth birthday.” Dante narrows his eyes at Force Edge, still propped against the wall. “Tch. Guess I can bring that, too. Can’t hurt to have a back-up sword, if nothing else.”

“Something of your mother’s, and something of your father’s. That covers our bases pretty well.”

“There’ll be a little something of everyone. Look at me, representing the family,” Dante adds dryly, a dark undercurrent to his tone.

There’s that anger again. Mel doesn’t even know how to address that, and really, it might not be her place. A time may come when they need to tackle it, but that will have to wait. The current family emergency takes precedence over past family drama.

Ordinarily, Dante wouldn’t be caught dead in a bookstore. Thanks to Vergil’s nerdiness, he finds himself in one, staring awkwardly at all the titles out on display. Mel’s left Enea with him, so at least he has something to distract himself with.

The baby’s curiously staring at one of the books. Dante raises a brow. “You gonna be a bookworm like your mom and dad?” He’s sure Mel – or if they’re lucky, Mel and Vergil – will try to raise him as one. “I’m gonna be outnumbered by nerds. I’ll do my best to instill some cool in you, but the odds aren’t with ya, scamp.”

From a couple aisles down, Dante catches Mel sifting through some books. Her lips move silently, repeating the name she’s looking for. He just hopes this place has something by Blake; book shop hopping ranks low on his list of favorite activities. It takes a long, anxious minute before she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls it out and looks at the cover. Satisfied, she removes the book from the shelf. Tucking it under her arm, she returns to Dante. “Mission complete.”

“That all you getting? I figured you’d want to grab something for Nea here.”

“‘Nea’?”

“Yeah. A nickname for the little scamp.”

Mel huffs out a laugh. “To answer your question: no, I wasn’t planning on it. He’s still too little for that.” She goes to add something, but she falters. Shrugging to cover up the momentary lapse, she quickly says, “Anyway, I’m good. Let’s pay for this and get home. Morrison might be back with the camera by now, and if everything went well, Matier and Lucia found a good spot for the summoning.”

Those unspoken words bug Dante. He follows along in silence as Mel buys the book and idly chats with the cashier ringing her up. What they’re talking about is lost on Dante. He’s in his head, trying to come up with what she was going to say. It happens a lot: she goes to say something, but then pulls back. Recent history suggests that Vergil is the cause.

…Right. I think I know.

He waits until they’re outside and walking home. Mel leans over to check on Enea, adjusting his little cap. Just as she finishes and straightens up, Dante quietly says, “You want Vergil to pick out his first book.”

He’s answered with a very hesitant nod.

“And that chowder recipe: his too, right?”

Another nod.

“…huh.” He wants to ask if she thinks he’d want to pick out a book, but she’s proven time again that she knows Vergil better than Dante does in many ways. “Well, just try not to let him pick his usual crap. Kid doesn’t need to be quoting some old Victorian poet by the time he’s five.”

“Blake was Georgian, and a Romantic poet.” Mel loses the fight to stop a smile from forming. “But uh, point taken. I’d rather wait until he’s older before he’s touching that kind of literature.” She fidgets with the bag handle and pointedly looks away from Dante. “No more clam chowder, I guess?”

“I’m not not eating good chowder just because Vergil came up with it.” Sure, it feels a little weird to be giving his brother that kind of praise, but credit where credit’s due. “It’s wild to picture him cooking. It’s so… domestic. And calm. And not destructive.”

“Mm, I can understand that.” She chuckles. “You know, it’s funny watching him cook, because he wears the same intense stare as when he’s fighting.” She mimics his expression; it gets a laugh out of Dante. “I always wondered if he pretended that he was battling the ingredients and making them submit to his will.”

“It’d be just like him to do that.”

“…I hope you get to see it.” Mel murmurs.

“Yeah, me too.” Dante lets out a long sigh. They’ve been dancing around the topic for days, but with the moment of truth just hours away, there’s no more delaying it. “Look, if… I can’t tell what’ll happen if we win. That’s on Vergil. But if we don’t…” The words get stuck in his throat. He swallows thickly. “I know you need to be there, I can’t argue it. But if it goes sideways and we decide there’s no helping him, get out of there. You shouldn’t be there for what happens next.”

Her eyes squeeze shut; he hates doing this, of daring to speak of the worst and putting that fear in her, but it needs to be said. There won’t be time when it starts. “…Better that than him suffering, I know. Just, um… we’re gonna do everything we can before it gets to that point, right?”

“I’m not giving up until there’s no other option.” Weeks ago, he had been ready to kill his brother if needed. That he readies himself again for the possibility, with the stakes being so much more personal this time, pains him more than he could ever admit. Let this time be different. Let things turn out okay. Don’t make me have to kill him. “What are you gonna do with Enea?”

“I’m gonna ask Morrison if he can take him. He’s already done so much for us, and I hope this is the last big favor I have to ask.” An uneasy pause follows her words.

Dante knows the unasked question, and luckily that one has an easier answer. “Good or bad outcome, you and Enea can stay with me as long as you want. I gotta get my business started up soon, once I think of a name.” There’s one that’s been floating around in his mind for a few weeks now. It’s a strange one, but it sticks to him, no matter how many times he tries to write it off. “Don’t worry, I still got some money saved up to last us for a bit.”

The relief in her voice is palpable. “Thank you. In a couple more weeks I should be ready to work, if I can figure out something with the baby. Maybe I can find something I can do at home…” She nods to herself. “We need to get a second bed. It’s so unfair that you’ve been sleeping on the couch. Or heck, even if we just get another mattress, I don’t mind sleeping on one without a frame.”

Focusing on the mundane is easier, and Dante gets why Mel is doing that. He’d also much rather think about the little things, the things within their control. “No rush. Couch isn’t that bad.” He misses his bed, but he’s slept on worse. “And… if Vergil makes it, that asshole can sleep in the basement.”

“Can he at least have a pillow and blanket?”

“Tch, if you insist.” Truth be told, if it guaranteed they could save Vergil, Dante would sleep in the basement himself. “One word of complaint out of him and he’s sleeping on the roof instead.”

That earns a needed laugh out of Mel. “Sounds fair to me.”

Night comes quickly. Morrison’s taken Enea, bringing him to his bar (which he closed early) to hang out with some of the staff there. “I know a few waitresses who are gonna lose their minds over him.” The separation anxiety is real, but Mel forces it down; right now, Vergil needs her more than Enea does.

Lucia and Matier had found an abandoned park in the city’s southside. The destruction wrought weeks ago cut it off from most of the city. It made for the perfect location: isolated, out of the way, and far away from other people.

The four of them pile inside Morrison’s borrowed car, summoning objects in tow, and make the long, winding journey to their destination. Lady follows behind on her bike, armed to the teeth. What should be a five-mile journey takes almost twice as long; a lot of debris still clogs the roads. Dante goes far slower than he’d like. As Lucia and Matier navigate, Mel drifts off into her thoughts.

Anticipation and anxiety churn her stomach into knots. Weeks of worry, waiting and preparation have all lead up to this. She isn’t a stranger to having an uncertain future, but never has it been so nerve-racking as it has been the last few weeks, nor have the stakes been so high. This isn’t just a matter of where she’ll wind up or what she’ll be doing next. It’s about the life of her son’s father and what life their son is going to have growing up. Will she be a single mother, or will she have a co-parent in Vergil? Dante will help, but will he get to just be the “cool” uncle, or will he have to step in as a father figure? Will she have the chance to repair things with Vergil, or will he forever be a heartbreaking case of “what if?” She’ll find out very soon, and it scares her witless.

The car rumbles to a stop. Mel looks up. They’ve somehow wormed their way around piles of debris to the once-gated entrance to a park. A playground stands far off to the right, some of the equipment broken and unusable. A few acres of grass stretch out before them, with a few trees dotting the landscape – at least the ones that survived the attack. Splintered pieces of a neighboring office building lie scattered around the park, making for a dangerous stroll.

As they exit the car, Lady pulls up next to them and parks her bike. With both engines off, an eerie silence settles over the group. Mel sneaks a glance at Lady, and she boggles at the number of guns and ammunition pouches she has on her. “Never let it be said you didn’t come prepared.”

“Not gonna take any chances when it comes to Vergil, especially an armored Vergil.” While Lucia and Dante pull out the needed components from the car, Lady steps over to Mel. Shoulders a tad hunched, she says, “Hey. Sorry about the other day.”

Mel hadn’t expected an apology. Despite the situation, she smiles. “Thank you. And, um, also thank you for being here. Despite how you feel about him, you’re here to help and I… No matter what the outcome is, I’ll always be grateful you were here tonight. You, Lucia, Matier, and Morrison: you’ve all done so much to help, and I won’t ever forget that.”

The two of them watch as Matier and her helpers search for a spot on the ground to perform the summoning. They find a patch of asphalt – possibly what was once the parking area – just yards away. Matier motions for them before she pulls out a stick of chalk and begins to draw on the ground.

Lady leans a little towards Mel. “You know, if this works, you’re gonna be stuck with both of them. If you think Dante’s a pain now, wait ‘til he’s around Vergil.”

“Ah, yeah. Their big ol’ sibling rivalry. It’d be interesting to see in person.” Mel lifts a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I’m sure they’d drive me crazy. But, it’s a small price to pay for having the family together.” Her shoulders sag as she realizes she’s getting ahead of herself in a number of ways. “That’s assuming Vergil sticks around. For all we know, he’ll just… go off again.”

“If he does that after all this, then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought, and that’s a real low bar.”

“Still better than him being trapped as a slave. I won’t regret saving him, even if he does leave. As long as I know he’s okay, I can live with whatever comes next.”

Lady stares at her for a long moment in a mixture of astonishment and confusion. “You are way nicer to him than he – I hope he knows what you’ve gone through for him, by the time it’s all said and done.”

Matier finishes drawing the summoning circle. Lucia and Dante lay out each item along the circumference. Mel inhales deeply, knowing they’re just moments away from starting. “Maybe, maybe not. I know what you’re saying, and you’re not wrong. I just… that’s all superfluous. To me, I mean. Of course I want him to stay, but him coming out of this alive and free, that’s what matters most.”

“…you love him, don’t you?”

“Seems that way,” Mel answers, her voice barely above a whisper.

The summoning circle is finished. All that remains is placing Ignis Fatuus and casting the spell. Dante and Lucia back up several steps, weapons out and at the ready. Matier nods at Lady and Mel. “I suspect he’ll begin swinging shortly after he arrives. You best be prepared.”

Lady swings out the Kalina Ann. She nudges Mel and adds, “Back up a bit. Dante and Lucia are the front line, but if he breaks through, I’ll need room to drive him back. Actually, do you know how to shoot?”

“Yeah, I have a pistol. Just didn’t see the point in bringing it along.”

The human arsenal leans her right hip towards Mel, gesturing with her elbows at one of her guns hanging off her belt. “Take that one. It won’t do much, but if it comes down to it, shoot him in the face. It’ll buy you a few seconds. That could make all the difference.”

Mel would rather not shoot Vergil, but Lady’s in the right here. She unclips the gun and cocks it, checking to make sure the safety’s off. “Okay.”

Lady turns towards Matier. “We’re ready.”

Matier looks between each of them, her eyes probing. Checking for signs of any hesitation, or so Mel suspects. Seemingly satisfied, the elder grips the Ignis Fatuus in her hands. “Then let’s begin.”

Chapter Text

All the nerves in Dante’s body ignite as anticipation courses through him. He spins Rebellion around, and his feet shift to a wider stance. He’s not going to let Vergil trounce him again. This time he’s better armed and prepared, not to mention in a much more suitable place for a fight. From the corner of his eye he sees Lucia sink into a near crouch, daggers drawn and at the ready. Tucked carefully in her belt is the binding pin. Dante goes over the plan again in his head: I distract him, Lucia moves in and sticks him. Then we have to get through to him.

From far behind them, Lady calls out, “We’re ready.”

Matier eyes all four of them, her gaze scrutinizing. Dante meets its with unwavering resolve, refusing to show the fear sitting cold and buried below it all.

When Matier seems satisfied, she holds out the Ignis Fatuus in her hands. “Then let’s begin.” She chants, closing her eyes to concentrate on the spell. The summoning circle begins to glow faintly as the words pour out of her mouth. With a final incantation, she drops the Ignis Fatuus into the middle of the circle. It flashes bright the moment the orb hits the ground. Ignis Fatuus emits several pulses of light. Each burst gets absorbed by one of the summoning objects, and they begin to pulsate in tandem with the Ignis Fatuus. When all five are doing so, the circle lights up to an almost blinding degree. Energy coalesces above the orb, gathering faster as the circle keeps glowing.

By this point Matier has backed up quite a distance, staff back in her hands. “It’s beginning to summon him. Prepare yourselves!”

Dante watches, looking for any sign of his brother. Nothing immediately jumps out at him; it all just appears to be formless magical energy. Suddenly, a shape appears in the now enormous swirling mass. A pair of glowing red eyes emerge, their piercing gaze landing directly on Date. The circle emits one final burst of light, and when it dims, there stands Vergil.

“Oh my god,” Lady whispers. “That’s really him?”

Dante and Lucia exchange quick glances. She nods knowingly to him and begins backing up. Vergil notices and begins to walk towards her, but Dante brandishes Rebellion at him. “You’re really gonna ignore me?”

There’s an ominous bent to the way Vergil turns his head towards him. Those glowing red eyes seem so empty; what Dante wouldn’t give to see his brother’s usual glare of contempt. He never thought he’d miss it, but he would take Vergil’s worst anger or disdain over this. He shoves down his unease and with the cockiest swagger he can manage, he taunts with, “I’m the threat here. I’m the real challenge. And deep down, you know that, Vergil. You remember.” Please remember. “C’mon, let’s have at it. Just like old times! I’ll even overlook the stupid armor. You need it more than I do, anyway.”

Vergil’s eyes dim to a dull yellow. Whether that’s good or not, Dante has no idea. But what he does know is that Vergil’s taken the bait, because he draws out his sword and fully turns his attention to Dante. With a roar he charges at his brother.

“Ha!” Dante rushes forward to meet him, swinging Rebellion out like a baseball bat to meet Vergil’s strike. He grits his teeth and holds his ground. “That thing’s a far cry from Yamato. I thought I was the broadsword guy around here.” And where is Yamato?

Vergil grunts and rears back, bringing his sword up high before swinging it down. Dante dashes out of the way, knowing better this time than to get trapped under the incoming barrage and be turned into a pancake. He summons Cerberus and whips it at Vergil’s feet. It latches around his ankle, and Dante tugs with all his strength. Vergil’s too sturdy to topple over, but he’s surprised enough to drop to one knee.

Lucia strikes fast. Dante barely notices her before she’s right on top of Vergil. He shouts and tries to throw her off, but Lucia’s iron grip on his shoulder pauldron makes his effort futile. She slams the binding pin into one of the blue veins. One of his flailing arms smacks her chest and knocks her to the ground. But he’s too late; the magic activates upon contact. Phantom chains wrap around his midriff before they plummet to the ground. His hands try to pull at them, but they pass through the chains like they aren’t there at all.

“Looks like you’re stuck with us.” Dante spares Lucia a quick glance to make sure she’s all right. When he sees her get to her feet, he focuses fully on Vergil. Now that his brother’s bound to the human world, if only briefly, the hard part begins. “Just another heartwarming family reunion, right?”

Vergil, giving up on the chains, shouts before he wildly lashes out at Dante with his sword. Dante grits his teeth and parries. That sword, the atrocity that it is, hits hard. Each strike from it stings his arms, even with Rebellion taking the brunt of the blows. The only saving grace is that Vergil hits much slower than normal, something that Dante absolutely hates because it isn’t like his brother at all. Vergil’s a speed demon (pun somewhat intended). He’s supposed to hit with quick, precise strikes, not wail away with an enormous sword.

“You used to be faster,” Dante quips, seizing the chance to bring up another memory. “Don’t you remember? You had a better sword than the piece of crap you’ve got there: Yamato. Yamato. Our father gave it to you. You remember it, I know you do!” When his brother makes no discernible reaction, he grabs his amulet and holds it out. “You have one just like it. Where is it?! Or did he take that from you, too?”

Now that makes Vergil pause. His free hand reaches towards his neck and digs in under his armor. It’s a moment of struggle, but he manages to free the pendant. He stares at it, then at the one Dante’s holding. He roars, the sound pained and angry. Dante’s breath hitches in hope. That was a chink in the armor. He’s feeling something. “Think you idiot! Why would we have the same pendant?” But rather than the response he hoped for, he’s instead met with a vicious swing. As he blocks the blow, he notices his brother glowing an eerie blue. “What the-”

He notices them just a millisecond too late. The summon swords rain down from above. Dante tries to dodge, but they pierce them before he gets out of range. The air is slammed out of his lungs as he hits the ground. Vergil looms above him, sword poised and ready to finish what he started back at the shop days ago.

Once again, Lucia comes to the rescue. She throws a dagger at Vergil, distracting him long enough to get in between him and Dante. She lets loose a flurry of strikes and blows with her twin daggers, driving him back and forcing him to go on the defensive. “Listen to your brother! The true you is under there, beneath what Mundus has made you into!”

Vergil answers with another round of summon swords. Lucia has more luck than Dante in dodging them, but it means she has to abandon her assault. While Lucia fends off the swords, Vergil leaps back and holds out his hand. A ball of energy forms in his palm. Dante remembers all too well what comes next. “Lucia, move!” he shouts as he scrambles to his feet. But the blast readies sooner than either anticipate, and Vergil fires.

As the two brace for impact, a rocket flies past them and collides with the blast. The combined explosion knocks them both to the ground, but leaves them otherwise unharmed. Vergil whips his head towards the source of the interruption.

Lady carefully steps forward, firmly placed between Vergil and Mel. Her finger rests on the trigger, poised to fire again. “Remember me? You and my father colluded together to obtain Sparda’s power. Your father’s power. You raised the demon tower, Temen-ni-gru. You fought Dante and myself. But Arkham deceived us and we nearly lost everything.”

Vergil starts stepping towards her, but he hesitates as her words sink in. However, Lady, spooked by his movement, fires another shot from the Kalina Ann. Vergil disappears into a flash of blue fire, the rocket whizzing through where he had just been. A second later he reappears in front of her. Lady stumbles back, but not fast enough to escape the reach of his arm. He grabs the Kalina Ann, but Lady stubbornly hangs on. He grunts and tosses them across the grass. Both weapon and wielder land with a crash. Lady groans in pain, but slowly tries to stand.

Mel sucks in a breath, keenly aware of the danger she’s in yet again. Vergil stands still as a statue, piercing yellow eyes fixed on his quarry. “Vergil,” she murmurs.

He makes a pained sound as he takes a step towards her.

“Vergil,” she repeats, her voice louder and firmer. “You’re remembering, aren’t you? You’re fighting it because you think it’s wrong – he’s telling you it’s wrong – but it isn’t. You’ve only been his slave for a few weeks. What do you think you were before then? Why doesn’t he want you to remember? Why does he want you to kill me so badly? Me, who couldn’t even hope to fight a regular demon, let alone you?”

His body spasms. His free hand grabs at his helmet as he cries out in agony. “I – I-”

“Come on, you can do it. You can fight him. I know you can!”

An all too familiar light envelops him. Mel’s eyes widen in panic. As the light grows brighter, it suddenly disappears, and the phantom chains reappear around Vergil’s body. They’ve done their job in fending off Mundus, but not without cost. The links begin to crack, showing their strain. “Shit, they’re breaking. Vergil, come on! Please remember!”

Dante staggers to his feet. Time’s running short; it’s do or die. He sprints towards them and shouts, “You’re Vergil, a son of Sparda! Our mother was Eva! You’re my brother, for better or worse! You’re an idiot and sometimes a monster, but you’re not this kind of monster!”

His brother screams. He lashes out with his sword, swiping at anyone who comes near. Mel narrowly manages to duck in time. Dante skids to a halt just out of reach. Vergil swipes at Dante again. “I’m – I’m – Nelo Angelo, servant of-”

“NO, YOU’RE FUCKING NOT!” Dante slams Rebellion against Vergil’s sword and drives it into the ground. “Your so-called master is the one who killed our mother! He’s been trying to kill you for a decade! You managed to fight off his cronies and evade him for ten years before you got captured. And I know you didn’t join him willingly. You’d off yourself before you’d do that. He’s making you do this, but you can fight back!”

Vergil grips his sword with both hands and swings it up with overwhelming strength. The force of the blow knocks Rebellion out of Dante’s hand, sending it flying somewhere far behind him. Left wide open, Dante’s defenseless against the next hit. He too goes flying before he crashes into the ground.

“Vergil, stop!” Mel grips her gun tightly. “I know it must be hard, but try! Believe us, please!”

A hand lashes out and grabs her throat. She chokes and gasps as she’s lifted up, her feet dangling. “Must… must…”

Dante shoves himself off the ground and hurls himself at them. He has no idea where Rebellion went, but there’s no time. Luckily he has a back-up. He brings out Force Edge and smashes it into Vergil’s arm hard enough to make him drop Mel. Dante shoves himself in between them. “Stop fighting us and fight him!” He shoves him back. “C’mon, don’t you dare give in!”

Vergil’s eyes flash red. His sword clashes against Force Edge, the metal sparking as the blades push against each other. “I must… kill… her… kill… you…”

Mel cries out, “Vergil, please. Please. You don’t want to. You didn’t before! You don’t need to do this!”

Dante’s feet dig into the ground as he tries to hold back Vergil, but his brother’s strength begins to overwhelm his. This whole time, he’s been fighting defensively, letting his words do the work his sword can’t. But it isn’t working. For a moment they seemed to be reaching him, but now he’s doubling down. It might be Mundus, it might be him. Dante doesn’t know. The chains around Vergil are beginning to break down more and more. They have mere minutes left.

I don’t know what to do. Dante shouts and redoubles his efforts, pushing back against Vergil. I don’t know what else I can do. I don’t know if I can reach him. Are we too late? His face is just inches from Vergil’s helmet. Those empty red eyes are bearing into him, determined to complete his mission. He sees nothing of his brother there. What do I do? I can’t – don’t make me do this. Don’t make me kill him. Fear and grief clog his throat. “Stop this. Vergil, stop.” The words are choked, and Dante can’t hide the desperation in them. “Someone – someone-” His arms and legs shake, and he knows he won’t last much longer. Panic finally gets the better of him, and he screams, “HELP ME!”

The pendants flash. Bright light envelops the Force Edge. The brothers go still and watch, neither willing to back down but unsure as to what’s happening. The pendants lift of their own accord and reach out to the other. When they meet, their backs merge together to form one single pendant. They spark with a blinding light, and then the Force Edge transforms. Energy surges through it, traveling up the sword’s length before it crashes into Vergil. With a sudden explosion of power, the brothers are flung away from each other. The last thing Dante sees before the impact knocks him out is his brother falling limp to the ground, and lying beside him the devil sword Sparda.

All is quiet. A heaviness keeps his eyelids shut, and he cannot work up the will to open them. There is nothing but darkness, and he just wants to sink into it and never wake up.

“Vergil.”

The voice pierces the darkness, lifting the heaviness that had settled over him. He forces his eyes open. Kneeling before him is a man that looks so familiar. Blue eyes (Like mine. Wait, but…) scan over him. The man sighs in relief, running a hand over his silver hair (Also… like… mine…?). “We don’t have much time. Vergil, do you remember me? Do you remember yourself?”

There’s a thought that tickles the back of his mind, hinting at the truth. “You… You…”

The man places his hand against Vergil’s cheek. “Keep going. You do know me. You know yourself. You just have to fish it out.”

He called me Vergil. I was – am I not Nelo Angelo? I… He repeats the name over and over. With each iteration, a different voice from the past emerges. A gentle, soft voice. A brusque but friendly voice. A warm voice, tinged with laughter. People called him Vergil. Their faces begin to take shape in his mind. The heavy fog begins to lift. “… I’m…” He reaches out, grasping those memories and pulling them forward. “You’re…” He looks down to find a red-jeweled pendant hanging around his neck. His fingers gently touch it.

It opens the floodgates barring his memories. His mother’s face flashes through his mind. He sees his brother goading him into fighting. Other less familiar faces whizz by him. And then, he remembers her, whose green eyes and quick wit entangled his heart and made him question everything. “I am Vergil. And you’re…” His eyes widen as the realization finally hits him. “Father…?”

Sparda smiles. “Yes. There you are.”

“Am I dead?” He looks past his father to their surroundings. His heart squeezes in old grief as he sees his home. The mansion stands tall and proud like it had once, before the demons came. Overhead, the branches of the giant oak tree sway in the gentle breeze. They used to sit under this tree all the time, taking in the warm weather when it came. But the fire got it, too, along with everything else from his childhood.

Sparda shakes his head. “No. What you’re seeing is a reflection, a lingering piece of my will that’s made it into your mind.” Both of his hands cup Vergil’s face. “I might be all that’s left. It isn’t much, but it’ll be enough to give you a chance.”

“A chance for-” The rest of his memories, the more recent ones, finally return. His imprisonment, his memory wipe, his transformation, his mission… he remembers it all. Panic grips him. “Mundus. He’s – he’s going to reach back in, he’s going to-”

“I know, which is why we don’t have much time. I’m holding him back, but it won’t be for long.” Sparda sighs, tired and pained. “This is my fault. I failed you, and now you’re in a nightmare. I wish I had time to explain everything, but we have to focus on freeing you from Mundus.”

Fear claws up Vergil’s throat. Mundus is utterly overwhelming. His iron grip on his mind has left no room for rebellion. “He’s completely taken over me. I’ve never been able to…”

“Yes, you have. He just isn’t letting you remember. You’ve shaken him off twice. Now you must do so a third time, but for good. You can do it, Vergil.” Sparda takes a bracing breath. “And you’re not alone. There are people out there trying to save you. Let them help you.” His expression becomes a bit stern. “That includes your brother.”

“Dante’s trying to help me?” The words sound even more incredulous spoken out loud.

“Yes, desperately. Him and others.”

The sky begins to grow dark. Sparda looks up and lets out a curse in a language Vergil doesn’t recognize. “We’re running out of time. Vergil, listen to me closely: you must fight Mundus with everything you have. It will be the hardest battle you’ve ever fought. I wish I could do it for you, but I can’t. All I can do is give you an opening. When you wake up, you’ll have but a moment. Be ready for him, because he will fight you tooth and nail. Do not give up. Do not let him win.”

Vergil nods. To his shame, he feels tears welling up. He can’t remember the last time he cried, and he hates that he’s doing it in front of his father, no less. “I – I will,” he says, trying to sound confident and unafraid: two things he most certainly isn’t.

“There’s no shame in being afraid. I would be, if I were in your shoes.” Sparda leans his forehead against Vergil’s. “Everything you’ve been looking for has been with you the whole time. And while I’m pained at some of the choices you’ve made, I’m proud of you for being so strong. You’ve survived so much, and I know you’ll survive this, too.” A few tears trickle down his cheeks. “Tell your brother… tell him I’m sorry. He’s had to shoulder more than his fair share, and he never should have had to. But he did, and I’m proud of him. You’ve both made me proud.”

Vergil grips his father’s arms tightly. He doesn’t want him to go. He’s terrified of what’s going to happen next, and he so desperately wishes his father would be there to guide him.

“You don’t need me. You and Dante have surpassed me. I promise you: you’ll get through this.” Sparda pulls back; Vergil realizes he’s beginning to fade. “Time’s just about up.”

“It – this is the last of you, and it’s spent having to save me.” He finds it pathetic of himself, and utterly shameful.

“As a parent, I can think of no better end. I’m your father: your life comes before mine.” He huffs out a laugh when Vergil frowns. “It’s true, and you’ll come to understand it soon enough.”

The sky is almost pitch black. Vergil can sense Mundus not too far away. So can Sparda, if his pained expression is any indication. “It’s time. Be ready, Vergil. Remember that you aren’t alone.” Sparda leans up and kisses his forehead. His tears dampen Vergil’s skin. “I love you both. Your mother and I are always with you. Now…” He pulls back, giving his son one last smile. “On the count of three, you’re going to wake up. The fight begins then. Are you ready?”

“…yes.”

“Okay. One…”

Vergil swallows thickly. “Father…”

“Two…”

“Goodbye.”

“Three.”

He jolts into consciousness. He’s back inside that cursed armor, laying on his side. The devil sword Sparda lies between him and his brother, who’s also just waking up. Knowing he has but a moment, he shouts, “Dante!”

His head snaps up, eyes wide in realization. “Vergil-”

Mundus’s voice slithers into his thoughts. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Vergil grabs his helmet and desperately tries to pull it off. “Get out of my head!”

“You dare defy me?” Mundus pushes into his mind, his proverbial fingers digging into him. “You are nothing without me. These pests around you are nothing. They are lingering remnants of your weakness.”

“Shut up shut up SHUT UP!”

Suddenly he feels a pair of hands grabbing his helmet. Dante grits his teeth and hisses as he tries to help him remove it. “If that prick is listening, tell him I said to fuck right off!”

“Your brother, hm? The same one that was ready to kill you. The one your mother favored. She left you behind to save him.”

“That’s – shut up! Just shut up and let me go!”

“I’ve given you the power you’ve always wanted. With me and me alone, you finally have what you need. The rest does not matter. Why else would you have thrown it all away?” His consciousness intrudes on Vergil’s, chipping away at his self. “Your memories, your ego, they just hold you back. Return to me. Abandon this foolish endeavor.”

His body spasms as Mundus begins to seize control. One of his seizures is powerful enough to throw Dante off. Vergil’s hands fall from his helmet as he slowly loses himself. I am… I am…

“Mine. You are Nelo Angelo, my servant. You are nothing else.”

Struggling to his feet, Dante shouts, “Don’t you give up! Vergil, come on!”

I am… Nel – no. I am Vergil. Son of Sparda. He grasps desperately at his receding memories and the identity tied to them. He shifts onto his knees, hands shaking as they feebly try to reach his helmet. “Vergil… I’m… Vergil…”

“Yeah, dumbass. And don’t let him tell you otherwise!”

But just as Vergil whips up a bit of strength, Mundus’s will floods his mind. Vergil screams as his mind is overwhelmed at the deluge. “Enough. Cease your futile resistance. Your father couldn’t destroy me. He lived in fear of my return. You, his inferior in every way, have no hope. All you are doing is inflicting needless hardship on yourself.” Darkness overtakes his memories. “There is nothing else to you but Nelo Angelo, far superior and-”

“Vergil.”

He lifts his head, the soft voice compelling him.

Mel drops her gun and approaches him. Vergil’s body spasms as Mundus exerts control. It’s the girl he wants him to kill. His mind pulsates with the urge to end her life. He reaches out a hand towards her as she stops and kneels in front of him.

“I don’t know what he’s telling you,” she begins, her gaze unflinching as his hand slowly reaches for her throat. “But it isn’t true. You’re more than the parts of you he’s scraped together to suit his needs. You’re human and demon, and there’s so much to both parts of you. He’s afraid of all that you are.”

“Kill that girl. Kill her and complete your transformation. This has gone on for too long.”

…Mel… that’s – that’s Mel-

“Her name does not matter. Her memory does not matter. Her words do not matter. She means nothing. She’s a weak human, only destined to be consumed.”

“I can’t fight him for you, but I’m going to do everything I can to help. You’re not alone.”

I’m – I’m not. That’s right, I’m not alone. His father’s words whisper back from the depths of his mind. He pulls on the memory, allowing his father’s last words to light up the darkness. “M – Mel…”

“You do remember.” Mel grips his hand in hers. “You remember me, and your brother. You remember your parents. You remember who and what you are. He might be trying to fool you into thinking otherwise, but you do.”

He shakes, his body overwrought from the mental wrestling match. “Mel – I – he’s-”

Mundus pushes back in, trying to snuff out that little bit of light Vergil’s undug. “Kill her. Kill. Her. She did not value you enough to stay with you. She cared not that you left. You have no reason to care. Don’t let her weaken you.”

Vergil’s eyes flash back and forth between yellow to red. His hand is so close to her, all he needs to do is free it from her weak grip and grab her. With her hands still wrapped around it, he lifts his hand and reaches for her throat. “You – I left, and you…”

She still does not move. Her eyes glance to the side and she shakes her head. “Don’t.”

From the corner of his eye, Vergil sees Dante freezes mid-lunge. “Mel, he’s-”

“He can do this. I know he can.” Mel turns back to Vergil. “We didn’t part on good terms. We both were angry and hurt. Our beliefs have always been different, and it was bound to drive a wedge between us sooner or later.” She pulls his hand down, hugging it to her chest. He tries to wrest it from her, but she clings on. “But that’s okay. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but that didn’t stop us.” Her breath hitches as she begins to cry. “It didn’t stop you from caring about me. It – It didn’t-” She sucks in a shaky breath, steeling her will before she softly says, “It didn’t stop me from falling in love with you. Even as angry and hurt as I was.” A sob escapes her. “I love you. I love you, and that’s why I’m here. So, please, please fight, Vergil. I need you to fight.”

She… loves me? Vergil can hardly believe it, but he trusts Mel. Deep down he trusts her implicitly. He always has. Mundus’s might cannot hide it from him, try as he does. She loves me. Father and Mother loved me. And maybe even Dante… Why else would his brother be fighting if he didn’t care? It shouldn’t be such a startling revelation, but it is: he’s loved.

“Weak words meant to disarm you. She is nothing, she is-”

Vergil’s free hand grabs his helmet. “She is everything. Shut the hell up.” This time it’s Vergil who pushes back. His father’s words have taken on a whole new meaning; he isn’t alone, but not just physically. There may only be a few people who care about him, but they do and it’s more than he thought he ever had. It empowers him in a way he’s never known. “Get. Out. Of. My. Head.”

Mel lets go of his hand and lurches towards him. She grabs his helmet and begins to help him pull it off. “Let him go you bastard! You want me dead so bad, come kill me yourself!”

Dante scuttles over and his hands join hers. “Forget it, because I’m going to take my father’s sword and drive it up his ass before he can!” He suddenly rears back and punches Vergil’s head. “You hear me?! I’m gonna nail you to the wall for all you’ve done! But first you’re gonna let my brother go. He’s a pain in the ass but he’s our pain in the ass, not yours!”

Vergil screams in pain as he tugs harder and harder on his helmet. Mundus keeps trying to claw his way in, but he shoves back every attempt. “You’re not taking me again. You’re not!”

He hears people running, and then suddenly someone jumps on his back. “You’re gonna owe me for this you prick!” Lady snaps as she latches onto his helmet and joins them in prying it off. “Don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you. You’ve got too much to atone for to be wasting your time under that asshole’s thumb!”

A red-headed woman slides to a stop by his side, opposite Dante, and digs her feet in. She grunts as she pushes up on the helmet’s horns. “Keep fighting! We will not give up so long as you don’t!”

The helmet begins to slide up. Mundus redoubles his efforts to take back his slave. “You cannot escape me. You never will. Why would you want to? I’ve given you everything you wanted. What have these lowlifes ever done for you?”

Loved me. His memories are returning in force, even the smaller ones he’d completely forgotten about. The person that is Vergil finally reforms, and Nelo Angelo disappears. And you’ve given me nothing of worth. Power is meaningless without the freedom to wield it as I choose. How full of yourself you are, to think you’re anything next to them. To her.

There’s a rip, and his helmet flies off. Those helping him stumble or fall back from the momentum. Knocked back on his ass, Vergil stares in wonder at the night sky. The blue veins running through his armor begin to dim as Mundus’s grip slips. Vergil summons every last bit of strength for the final push. You heard my brother before: fuck off.

There’s another rip, but this one is inside his mind. The last thing he hears of Mundus is a deafening roar of anger before everything suddenly goes quiet. Vergil collapses, his strength spent. His armor cracks and falls off into pieces all around him. I’m… I’m me again. He’s gone. Exhausted beyond comprehension, and with his battle finally won, he falls unconscious into desperately needed rest.

Chapter Text

A splitting headache greets Vergil upon waking. He grips his head and groans, “Ow.” Being part-demon, Vergil isn’t usually susceptible to headaches. During the first few seconds of consciousness, he can’t quite recall why he’d even have one. But when he finally wrenches open his eyes, he sees the answer.

He finds not a gauntlet but his hand, free of blue veins. He pulls it back and stares at it in wonder. It’s been – actually, he has no idea how long it’s been since he’s seen his hands. Or his coat, or anything else that had been under the armor. He looks past his hand to the unfamiliar ceiling, and he frowns. “Where am I?”

Footsteps approach from somewhere nearby. He grunts as he sits up, finding himself in someone’s bedroom. Small piles of clothes litter the floor. Off to the side is a piece of furniture covered with a large blanket that makes it difficult to discern what it is. Tucked up next to it is a bag he recognizes but hasn’t seen since early July.

He snaps his head towards the sound of the door swinging open. Mel stands in the threshold, her eyes widening as they meet Vergil’s. “Oh! You’re up!” She grins as she leans back and shouts, “Dante, he’s awake!”

“Mel…”

She walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Ah…” He almost can’t believe he’s looking at her. A nagging thought hints as to the reason for it, but he can’t quite recall the memory. “You’re – it’s-” Belatedly he remembers her question. “A headache, but otherwise I’m fine.”

“You’ve got to have the migraine of the century. Pushing someone out of your head will do that.”

Pieces of memory begin to float up from the depths of his mind. There’d been a fight, and he had been in incredible pain. Mundus had tried to take control of him, and he almost had. Until Vergil managed to do the impossible. That’s right. I was freed from Mundus. No wonder my head feels so strange.

Mel frowns in concern. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

“I was…” The haze begins to lift as he sifts through the returning memories. “Did you summon me?  Because I had been in Mundus’s lair one moment, and then suddenly I was in a park.”

“We did, yeah.”

A very familiar voice chimes in, “And it was a pain in the ass.”

Vergil lifts his gaze from Mel to his brother, who’s leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed and usual cocky smile in place. “Dante.”

“Wakey wakey, eggs ‘n bacey.” Dante chuckles as Vergil scowls. “You sure slept for long enough. It’s been almost twelve hours.”

Mel huffs. “Dante,” she admonishes. “You try evicting a demon emperor from your head and see how you’re feeling afterwards.”

“Hey, I just helped save his ass, I think I’m due a few digs at his expense.”

“As if you wouldn’t otherwise.” Beneath the usual annoyance Vergil has for Dante, there’s relief. Dante is familiarity and normalcy (their special kind of normalcy, anyway). He’s as far removed from Nelo Angelo and Mallet Island as can be. Above all, he’s a reminder that Vergil is Vergil again. But then something finally dawns on him. He glances back and forth between his brother and his ex, realizing that they’re both in the same room together and they seem to have some familiarity with each other. “How did you two meet?”

Dante rubs the back of his head. “Well, it all started when Mel and-”

Mel spins around and shushes him. “I’ll field this,” she says. When Dante raises a brow at her, she adds, “I know what you’re thinking, and I’ll get to that part. I don’t want to throw that in while we get him up to speed.”

He lifts his hands in surrender. “If that’s how you wanna do it.”

Throw what in? Vergil wonders. What is she hiding?

Mel smiles apologetically. “I’ll try and give you the short version. I don’t know if you remember, but you attacked me a few times while you were under Mundus’s control. The first time was in Fortuna. I realized who you were and that it was Mundus who had done that to you. The only person I could think of who could help was Dante, so I sought him out. I explained everything to him and to his friend, Morrison.”

“He’s an info broker,” Dante supplies. “He helped Mel find me.”

“He’s also the one who found Lucia and Matier. I don’t know if you saw Matier last night, but Lucia is the redhead.” When Vergil just stares blankly, she adds, “The one with the daggers.”

Vergil reaches up and touches his side. “She drove a needle into me.”

“A binding pin. To keep Mundus from recalling you. It was part of the plan we all put together. We summoned you, bound you to the human world, and then did everything we could think of to get through to you. It… got dicey, but you fought him off. You won.” Mel smiles at the memory. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

“I would certainly rank that as one of the more difficult things I’ve done.” In truth, it’s damn well the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. “A part of me still wonders if he isn’t just tricking me.” He reaches out in his mind, but he feels nothing of Mundus. “But I do think he’s gone. I will remain vigilant, however.”

Dante lets out a chuckle. “That’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Mel cuts in before Vergil can retort, “That’s the gist of it. There are some details worth discussing, but they can wait.”

Vergil nods, but he isn’t entirely satisfied. Her story mostly adds up, save for one detail. “…what’s the date today?”

“April 8^th.”

“The same year?”

“Yeah.” Mel tilts her head. “It’s only been a few weeks. You haven’t lost much time.”

It’s a relief to be sure; he feared more time had passed than that. But that isn’t his current concern. “Part of your story isn’t making sense. At the earliest, I would have attacked you in March. But that’s still months after I left Fortuna.” He frowns at Mel. “I had the impression you would leave right after I did. Why were you still there?”

Mel stills. Her usual sunniness fades into something unreadable. At first, Vergil thinks she’s angry, but Mel’s not one for cold fury. He’s been at the brunt end of her rage, he would know. No, this isn’t anger, but something else entirely.

Dante watches her expectantly. “I think we’re at ‘that part’,” he murmurs.

“I know.” Mel sucks in a deep breath. “You’re right,” she begins, exhaling that breath. “I was planning on leaving Fortuna right after you. But, um… there was an… unexpected development. Something that made it expedient to stay for a while.”

“You disliked being there. What would make you stay?”

She straightens, shoulders stiff and back ramrod straight. Vergil’s frown deepens as he finally gets a read on her. She’s nervous. Scared, even. It doesn’t sit well with him. She has no reason to be afraid of him, now that he’s not under Mundus’s control.

Mel’s fingers dig into her jeans. She doesn’t answer for a long, drawn-out moment. Vergil keeps silent, despite his impatience for an answer. He peeks at Dante, looking for some hint. His brother doesn’t budge, instead keeping that expectant gaze on Mel. Finally, she quietly answers, “I think it’d be easier if I just showed you.” She stands up, and to Dante she says, “I’m gonna go get him.”

Him?

Dante nods in acknowledgment. “I’ll babysit him for a second.”

Mel says to Vergil, “I’ll be right back.” She quickly ducks out of the room, leaving the twins alone.

As Mel retreats down the steps, Vergil takes the chance to state, “You and I have unfinished business. There’s also something I need to tell you, but that can wait. That’s a conversation between us and us alone.”

“Unfinished business, huh? Me trouncing you that last time wasn’t enough?”

“It never is.” Dante’s answer surprises him; he thought he’d readily agree with his assertion. “Out of a sense of fairness, I’m not counting our recent fights. I wasn’t exactly myself.”

“You sure as hell weren’t. So, you want things to be business as usual.”

“I acknowledge you aided in freeing me from Mundus. I… I am grateful.” The words feel like shards of glass in his mouth, but he owes Dante that much. “But I don’t see that as reason for things to change.”

Dante shakes his head, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “Never thought I’d hear that from you.” The laughter quickly fades as a more thoughtful expression replaces it. “You know, a month ago, I would have agreed with you.” He pauses as footsteps come up the stairs. His eyes dart towards them before he sidesteps out of the way. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he says, “But the situation’s changed.”

Vergil cannot grasp what could possibly make him say that. Their rivalry trumps practically everything else; only a considerable threat to both of them could ever make them set it aside. Even then, that’s always temporary. He intends to ask, but when Mel walks into the room just then, he no longer needs to. She’s holding the answer in her arms.

Vergil’s life has been nothing but dangerous. He’s spent the last decade fighting for his life. He has faced countless demons and threats. He faced Mundus and survived enslavement. But nothing has ever terrified him as much as that tiny baby. The sight of it bundled up in Mel’s arms knocks the air out of his lungs. All he manages is a wide-eyed, thunderstruck look.

Mel watches him, her expression a mix of anticipation and uneasiness. “I would have told you, but you didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address.”

His head empties of any coherent thought. Sparda had said he would understand what it meant to be a parent soon enough. Naturally, Vergil had been skeptical of that, but even if he did believe him, he never would have thought he meant this soon. He tries to think of something, but his brain’s managing nothing more than a spinning loading icon.

Mel sits back down on the edge of the bed. As she moves, the baby stirs. He opens his eyes and peers over at Vergil. His mother smiles and leans down, pressing a kiss to his head before she quietly says, “That’s your daddy. He looks just like Uncle Dante, huh?”

Daddy. It pulls at a heartstring Vergil never knew existed. It’s a drop of something soft overshadowed by the engrossing gulf of terror. His throat goes completely dry. He gawks at Mel, still desperately trying to find the words.

She shifts so the baby’s a little closer to him. Vergil credits himself for not backing away like a scared animal. “Vergil, this is our son.”

He feels more than sees Dante’s stare. His brother’s watching him about as intensely as he does during their fights. In any other situation Vergil would respond to it, but he’s too shocked to do more than acknowledge it. He swallows in an attempt to wet his throat so he can speak. I’m not even nineteen. I never – It’s so much. He didn’t ask for this. He doesn’t know what to do with this, with him.

“Here.” Mel gently pushes the baby into Vergil’s arms. Instinctively he holds onto him, but he shakes his head as she does. “He’s your son. Hold him. I know I’m being pushy, but trust me on this. It’s different when you hold him.” She adjusts his arms so he’s carrying him properly. Once the little one’s secure, she backs off, giving father and son some space.

All Vergil feels still is that terror. He so badly wants to thrust the baby back at Mel. What am I supposed to do? What –

His son stares at him quietly, sucking away on his pacifier as he regards his father with the same curiosity he sees the rest of the world with. It’s then, while they’re staring at each other, that Vergil really looks at him. He sees past what this baby means and simply sees him for what and who he is. He sees that signature silver hair and blue eyes, sure signs of his lineage. He feels the strength in him when the baby stretches and kicks him in his arm. It hardly hurts, but Vergil’s fairly certain an ordinary newborn doesn’t have that kind of oomph in their limbs. He sees so much of himself in this child, in his… his son. That damn heartstring’s pulled again. It echoes louder against the fear, emboldening him enough to finally ask, “What’s his name?”

“Enea.”

Vergil’s brow puckers. “Where did you get that from?”

“Well, um…” Mel tucks some hair behind her ear, looking away nervously. “It’s… it’s an Italian name.”

“…and?”

“…Um, it’s an Italian version of another name, really. A – A Greek name.” She pauses, takes a breath, and then rushes out, “Aeneas.”

It takes Vergil but a second to put it together. Aeneas, the hero of The Aeneid, the most well-known tale written by the poet Virgil. It’s a tribute to me. He never expected that. After the way he had left, he thought Mel would ensure sure nothing in her life tied back to him. Really, he’s surprised she gave birth to his child at all, let alone gave him a name that connected him with his father. “…You honor me.”

Dante looks back and forth between them, clearly confused in expression and tone. “I don’t get it.”

“Well maybe if you read a book for once in your life, you might,” Vergil snidely answers.

“Of course it’s a book reference. Nevermind.”

“Uncultured swine.”

“Dweeb.”

Mel loudly sighs. “Oh my god would you two not fight in front of Enea? This is the first time he’s with his entire family, so let’s maybe not ruin that with an argument?”

It’s a cold splash of reality. She’s right, this is the entire family. The brothers exchange a look. Vergil sees in Dante the same as what he’s feeling.

“We’re all the little scamp’s got,” Dante says. “And a couple of people downstairs. Everyone that gives a shit about him is in this building.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “If that ain’t sad…”

“There are people downstairs?” Vergil much prefers to focus on that than the very sad reality of their family situation.

Mel nods. “Yeah. Everyone who helped. When you’re ready, I think you should go down and meet them. They all worked hard to save you. They’d be glad to see you up and about.”

As much as the thought of a social group setting makes Vergil’s skin want to crawl, he does eventually agree to come downstairs. If his appearance satisfies his saviors enough as thanks, then the least he can do is that. Once he freshens up, he follows Mel and Dante down the steps. Enea’s back in Mel’s arms. Vergil’s mostly relieved for that, but his arms feel strangely empty now.

Scattered around Dante’s office are the four people who chipped in their time and effort, and in a few cases risked their lives, to help him. He stops just two steps shy of the landing, taking in the scene in front of him.

The only man in the group looks over and raises his brow. A grin quickly follows. “Well, well, if it ain’t the man of the hour. Gotta say, I like that look better on you than the armor.”

Dante says, “Right, guess I should introduce. Vergil, that’s J.D. Morrison, the info broker.”

Morrison tips his hat to him. “Good to see you up and about, as yourself.”

Dante points to a red-headed woman who’s scrutinizing him rather intensely. “That’s Lucia, and sitting next to her is Matier, her mother. They flew up from South America.”

“That’s a long way to come,” Vergil says quietly.

“But worth it,” Matier responds. “You were saved, and I finally got to try some American cuisine.”

Lucia sighs, the sound amused. “You certainly have your priorities, Matier.” She glances back at Vergil. “I’m glad things ended well. You had us concerned for a moment last night, but you pulled through.”

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why did you come thousands of miles to help a stranger?”

“Matier knew Dad,” Dante answers.

“A long time ago,” she adds. “I owe him quite a lot. The least I could do was aid his son in his time of need. It’s what he would have wanted.” Matier looks over at the sword that bears Sparda’s name. “How fitting that his sword would re-form at such a time. It’s almost like he was there in spirit, helping you.”

Dante snorts derisively. “Yeah, right.”

Vergil’s hand subconsciously travels to his pendant. Sparda had helped, and he considers just coming out and telling them. No, he decides after a moment. That’s not for them to know. But it is for Dante to know. Vergil wonders how he’ll react to the news, given his obvious disdain for their father.

“Anyway.” Dante starts to point at Lady, but then stops. “Guess I don’t need to introduce you two.”

She crosses her arms, giving Vergil a stern look that’s not quite a glare. “You’re still a prick and don’t think this means I’m letting you off the hook for anything you did. But at least you’re being a jackass on your terms, rather than being puppeted by Mundus.” She lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “No one deserves that, not even you.”

“…Glad to know I rank a tad higher than Mundus.” Vergil travels down the rest of the stairs. He regards everyone in the room quietly. It doesn’t sit entirely well with him that he needed rescuing, but the simple truth is, he did. If they had not intervened, he would still be Nelo Angelo. Three of them are strangers who went out of their way to help him. One of them hates him for his past actions, but still found it in her heart to set her feelings aside. One of them is his brother, with whom he has a rather tumultuous relationship. He doubts it was easy for Dante to shelf his anger, but he did. And one of them is the girl whose heart he broke, yet she bore his child and came halfway across the world to sound the alarm. These six people put everything on the line for what was, at best, a gamble. It’s all a display of kindness and compassion that Vergil cannot comprehend.

He takes a step forward, beating back the voice in his head chastising him for even thinking about this display of weakness. He bows and says, “Thank you. All of you.” When he straightens, he’s met with a mix of smiles and flabbergasted looks.

Matier tsks at him. “Come now, there’s no need for such formality. We should be celebrating! It would be quite nice to have one last meal with you all before Lucia and I leave tonight.”

Mel’s smile falls away. “You’re leaving so soon?”

“We must. Ordinarily we would never even leave Vie di Marli, let alone go so far. But the circumstances were too exceptional to ignore. Lucia and I must return as soon as possible.”

“I understand. In that case, it should be something special.” She slides a look at Dante. “That means no pizza.”

He darkly mutters under his breath.

Matier gestures to Vergil. “Why don’t you pick?”

“Me?”

“It might have only been a few weeks, but I’m sure Mundus didn’t provide decent meals.”

“Ah… no.” He doesn’t want to think about what Mundus considers food. “I’m not certain. I haven’t really thought about food in some time.”

Mel says, “Why not seafood? I know it’s a little on the pricier side, but I think it’s worth splurging.” She offers him a smile. “There’s a local place that does a good clam bake.”

One of his favorites. He is somehow both surprised and not surprised she remembers. Despite himself, the barest hint of a smile pulls at his lips. “That sounds perfect.”

Matier leans forward and holds out her arms. “I need to get in some baby snuggles before I go. It’s been too long since I got to hold a little one.”

Mel obliges and hands Enea to her. “He’s really taken a liking to you. And I’m always happy to hand him off to anyone who wants to cuddle.” She rubs her arms absentmindedly as she watches Matier coo at Enea. Lady leans over and smiles at the baby, wiggling her fingers at him.

Her arms must be tired from carrying him. While everyone is busy chatting with each other and fawning over the baby, Vergil takes the opportunity to really look at Mel, taking in the sight of her. She’s almost exactly the same as when he last saw her, a few minor physical changes aside. Her hair’s gotten longer, and naturally she’s gained some weight. But the biggest difference he sees is the weariness in her eyes. Not entirely surprising, given the newborn baby, yet the distant, fatigued expression she wears as the conversation swirls around them speaks to something more than the usual post-natal exhaustion. I’m to blame, he concludes as she by chance looks over at him. For a hair’s breadth of a moment, he feels the full brunt of everything coalescing inside her: exhaustion, relief, hurt, anxiety, love. But just as soon as it comes, it disappears, hidden under Mel’s forced smile.

How do I move forward? I don’t even know what I’m going to do. He doesn’t want to give up on his ambition, but Enea’s existence throws a wrench in all of it.

Belatedly he realizes he’s being watched. The others in the room are still chatting away, but someone is conspicuously silent. He doesn’t need to look to know who it is, but he meets their stare anyway. His brother pins him down with an indecipherable look. Before I decide anything, Dante and I need to talk.  

The basement isn’t exactly hospitable, but Vergil’s glad for the quiet reprieve. Tonight has been a lot to take in. He’s barely been free of Mundus for twenty-four hours, and he’s already been thrown curveball after curveball. He’s fielded several conversations, spent time with his brother and his ex (in the same room, no less), and ate food for the first time in weeks. He fought with himself about holding Enea, but to his shame, fear won out. Mel hadn’t pushed that time, but he sensed the disappointment. I’m already screwing up.

His head feels like it isn’t quite screwed on right. He reasons it’s just a side effect from being freed from mind control. It likely is, but that isn’t all there is to it. He’s had little time to just sit and process everything. Rather than sleep, he takes advantage of the quiet downtime to think things over.

It isn’t terribly unlike that July day, when he found out about the Temen-ni-gru and was forced to make a choice. He chose his pursuit of power over Mel, and for the first time, he wonders if he had made the wrong choice. There’s guilt, primarily because he impregnated her and then flounced off before either of them knew. Had he known, things would have turned out differently. But even if he overlooks the situation with Mel, he had failed overall. He thought the Temen-ni-gru would give him what he’s sought after for so long. And it would have, had Arkham not – The internal rant dies before it really even begins. He betrayed Arkham first. That likely wouldn’t have changed Arkham’s plans, but he can’t deny it didn’t help either. Arkham allowing his daughter to live signaled a weakness in him that Vergil couldn’t abide by. Pesky fatherly love, he called it. In hindsight, it was all intentional, a part of Arkham’s grand scheme. Yet even knowing that, the accusation he flung at him hits much differently now.

That same pesky fatherly love now gets in the way of his own goal. Enea stirs in him a terror he can barely swallow. But he cannot deny that he is his son and his responsibility. Within that fear remains those vibrating heartstrings, the early beginnings of love and affection. There’s pride, too. Enea bears all the telltale characteristics of Sparda’s lineage. He may only be quarter-demon, but Vergil suspects that won’t hinder him much.

His train of thought slides to a halt when the basement door opens. Vergil sits up in his makeshift bed and listens. Footsteps echo down the stairwell. Seconds later, Dante appears at the bottom of the steps. “Mel and Enea are asleep. The scamp ate, so they shouldn’t be up for a couple of hours.” He moseys over to the wall opposite of Vergil. Leaning back against it, he crosses his arms before he regards his brother. “So, what’s this conversation you and I need to have?”

“I think you know as well as I do we have a couple things to discuss, but first…” Vergil trails off as he considers how to go about this. “When the Force Edge transformed and we were knocked out, did… anything strange happen to you?”

Dante lifts an eyebrow. “That in and of itself was pretty strange. But that’s not what you mean.”

“No.” Vergil taps his fingers together in thought. He isn’t sure how Dante will take this, or if he’ll even believe him. Still, he must try. He owes their father that much. “I… Even now I’m not entirely certain what happened, but I was… in my mind. I was back home, under the oak tree. With me was Father.”

“Just sounds like a dream-”

“It wasn’t.” Vergil blows out an impatient sigh. “Let me finish. I couldn’t remember anything at first. He talked to me and helped me reclaim my memories. I thought I had died, but he assured me I hadn’t. Rather, he was a fragment of Sparda’s will that lived on inside Force Edge, released when it became the devil sword Sparda. Somehow he jumped into my mind.” It still doesn’t sit well with him that what’s likely the last remaining piece of their father was spent bailing him out. “I had so many questions, but there wasn’t time. He told me that I had to fight Mundus, and that he would give me an opening. Before I woke up, he… left me with some parting words. Some were for me, some were for both of us…” He pins his brother with a discerning look. “And he asked me to pass some to you.”

Dante goes eerily still. His expression looks more of someone expecting an attack than their father’s last parting words. “This oughta be good,” he mutters darkly.

“He said that he was sorry. In his words, you’ve had to shoulder more than your fair share, and you never should have had to. But you did, and he was proud of you. To both of us, his parting words were along the lines of that he loves us, he’s proud of us, and he and our mother are always with us. A bit cliché, but I got the sense he was entirely sincere about it.”

A restlessness overtakes his brother. Dante quickly strides to the back of the room. He keeps his back to Vergil as he stares at the far wall, his hands repeatedly clenching and unclenching. “Well,” he says after a long pause. “that’s more than I ever thought I’d get from him.” He shakes his head. “Guess fair is fair. I got to say goodbye to Mom, kind of, and now you got to say goodbye to Dad.” Suddenly he turns and says, “You never asked about what happened to us. About how she died.”

“No, why would I? I can perfectly well guess.” Bitterness seeps into his words. “The demons killed her. You both fled, but got caught. While she died, you got your chance to escape.”

He’s not met with the expected dismissive tone or even resigned guilt. Rather, he gets a shocked expression and, “Are you – did you think – you thought we ditched you? The hell, Vergil?”

“You both were gone while I was left to fend for myself-”

“Because Mom had no idea where you were after you ran off earlier! She grabbed me, hid me in the armoire in the front room, and then ran to find you. She died shouting your name!”

To call it a punch to the gut would be like calling a haymaker a tickle. He’s spent the last ten years riding on a wave of spite-fueled bitterness and anger, believing that his mother really had favored Dante and left him behind to save her favorite son. A common childhood misconception that never got the chance to be quelled by reassurance and time. As all the air leaves his chest, guilt quickly fills in the vacancy. His mother died looking for him. His father’s last remnant spent itself saving him. His parents’ last moments were dedicated to him. All this time, he thought he was alone and unwanted. That had never been the case.

Dante scoffs. “You really did think that. Idiot. But I guess that explains a few things.” He suddenly laughs sardonically. “Look at that, I finally understand something about you. Who would have thought?”

“Am I so difficult to understand?”

“You don’t make it easy. What little I thought I had figured out was upended when Mel came.” Dante shakes his head in disbelief. “How did you do it? You’re the most stuck up, unapproachable dickbag and yet you found yourself a girl who somehow got you to lower your guard. Even after you broke her heart, she traveled all the way here when she learned you were in trouble. She loves you and even had your kid.” His tone darkens. “And you’re probably gonna throw it all away because you just have to have your power.”

“…I never said that.” Vergil doesn’t have an answer to Dante’s question. He doesn’t know how he did it, either. He doesn’t know why Mel loves him, despite him being, well, himself. He knows he doesn’t deserve it; he’s done nothing to earn it. It boggles him as much, if not more than it does Dante.

Dante’s expression hardens, though Vergil doesn’t quite sense anger. Not yet, anyway. It’s caution he hears as Dante says, “You’re staying?”

“I… I don’t know. My attainment of power-”

“Oh here we go.”

“It’s more important than ever. It isn’t just about me anymore. Mundus will find out about Enea. It isn’t an if, it’s a when.” His heart nearly seizes at the mere thought of Mundus going anywhere near his son. “I need to be able to protect him and Mel. How can I say that I’m able to now, when I wasn’t able to defeat him before?”

“You were injured last time, dumbass. I pummeled you. And if Mundus comes for Enea, it’s not just you he’d have to go through.” Dante has that look Vergil knows well, the one where he’s fighting the urge to punch him. It’s different from his expression when they’re about to battle. That’s usually some combination of anger and giddiness. But the one he’s met with is just sheer frustration. “Having the strength to protect them is all well and dandy, Vergil, but what good is it if you’re not here? Dad wasn’t there for us when we needed his strength the most. Are you really gonna do that to Enea, too? Fuck off somewhere and miss him growing up?”

Dante is aiming his punches well tonight. Vergil rankles at the thought, but it’s only because he knows, deep down, that Dante’s right. Even just admitting it to himself makes him want to gag, but it’s true. “You’re asking me to give up everything I’ve worked for.”

“For something better.” Dante approaches his brother and sits so they’re eye to eye. “Listen to me. Like, really listen.” He points upstairs. “That girl up there? That pretty blonde who cares about you? You are never gonna do better than her. And I’m not just saying that to be a jerk. I mean it. You found the one person in the world who has the patience, the heart and the spine to put up with you. Between you two you’ve got a cute little kid who needs his dad. You’ve got a family. Why would you throw away something that good for something that isn’t going to give you what you want?”

“For someone who just claimed he barely understands me, you seem to be presuming quite a bit. What do you know about anything that I want?”

“Because you don’t know what you want! Because if you did, then you’d be able to answer this: what do you need with all that power? Give me an actual answer.”

Both Mel and Dante have questioned his lust for power. He’s never given them a good answer. He would argue he didn’t need to justify himself. Really, it’s because Dante’s right; he doesn’t have an answer. Not one that’s easy to articulate.

Sparda’s words from last night echo in his mind: “Everything you’ve been looking for has been with you the whole time.” Until now, he didn’t quite understand what he had meant. His father called him strong, and so he thought maybe Sparda meant he already had all the strength he needed. Perhaps that wasn’t quite it. Perhaps it isn’t strength he’s looking for, not really. What do I want power for? To be strong, so I am able to protect myself from anything. He had never thought past that. That reason alone had been enough. For the first time, he thinks a step further. What do I need to protect myself from that I don’t already have the strength to fight? Yes, he wanted to confront Mundus someday, but that was never entirely the reason. Mundus was just an easy answer, a concrete threat to pin his trauma to and center his motivation around. If Mundus isn’t the answer, then what is? Sitting on that cot, staring at the wall while his brother watches him with an uncharacteristic intensity, the answer finally takes form.

It’s because he was alone and afraid. Because he was alone, he had to rely on himself to survive. Because he was afraid, he sought anything that made him feel brave. The only thing that did was power, namely the kind that destroyed his enemies and made them afraid. In his mind, gaining more power meant he wouldn’t have to be afraid of anything. If everything and everyone else feared him, then he had nothing to be scared of. That power would allow him to protect himself on his own, so he wouldn’t need anyone. With no one in his life, he had nothing to lose. If he had no one and nothing to lose, then he didn’t have to be afraid of the pain of loss, or to experience that miserable loneliness again. So he shoved away his brother, and then he shoved away Mel: two of the few people that ever had come close to his heart. Yet they fought and risked their lives to save him, because despite his best efforts, they love him. Sparda was right: everything he needed was right there the whole time. Because it isn’t power that he needs, it’s love and protection, and they’re both right there, under that roof. I’m such a fool.

Finally he turns to his brother. Dante must sense the change in him, because his expression softens immediately. He waits for Vergil to speak. Once he works up the nerve, Vergil says, “If I were to stay, what would that look like? I don’t have the means to take care of Mel and Enea. I have nothing.”

“You can stay here until you figure it out. I’m not gonna let Mel and Enea starve or anything.”

“You’d be willing to let me stay here, under your roof? That would mean us living together.”

Dante huffs out a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I know. It’s not gonna be easy.”

“Do you think we even can, after everything?”

“That’s up to us, isn’t it? Might mean having to bury the hatchet. I don’t know how we’d do that. But… for Nea’s sake, I’m willing to try. Won’t do to have his dad and uncle at each other’s throats.”

Set his rivalry with Dante aside: it’s a very big ask. His eyes glance upstairs. “Before I decide anything, I need to speak with Mel.” He can’t do this without her. For all he knows, she may not want him around. She may love him, but their relationship still lies in tatters after their breakup last year. Until that gets addressed, and until he finds where he stands with her, he can’t move forward with anything.

Chapter Text

It’s rare for Mel to wake up before the baby. Early sunlight creeps in through the gaps in the curtains, and she has half a mind to catch some more sleep. But her mind refuses. Already it spins with plans and expectations for the day ahead. Admittedly, today promises more uncertainty than normal. Mel feels nothing but uneasiness at the prospect. Vergil seemed overwhelmed last night. He wouldn’t hold Enea, either. Her heart squeezes in pain; she knows she needs to brace herself for the worst.

On the nightstand sits a folded letter. Mel picks it up and opens it. She’s read it before, but she needs to see those words again:

Mel,

Though we will have already bid each other goodbye in person, I wanted to leave this with you as well. Below are parting words that are meant for you and you alone.

I cannot imagine what it has taken you to get to this point. Most would have buckled under the pressure. I cannot leave you with any assurances for the future, but I do believe you will pull through, come what may. Take each day as it comes. You’ve succeeded in what you set out to do. Be proud, and know that if you were able to help save that young man from a demon emperor, there’s very little you can’t do.

Motherhood is a journey you will always be on. In time it will become easier. Believe in yourself, and let others help. If Enea is anything like you, he will turn out just fine. I hope he will have both his parents in his life. I believe Vergil will do what is right, but only time will tell. Whatever Vergil decides next, you will be all right. Both of you.

I do wish we lived closer so we could help, but I’m afraid this will be the last time we see each other for a long time. I will leave my address below, in hopes we can keep in touch through letters. Until I hear from you again, be well.

Matier

P.S. Lucia, very insistently, requested that I tell you that if Vergil abandons you, you are to notify us immediately and she will hunt him down.

P.P.S. And please do send photos of Enea when you can. I’m going to miss those little cheeks.

She puts the note back on the nightstand. Matier’s words are a desperately needed pep talk to help her face the day. I’ll be fine, no matter what happens. I’ll be-

Enea wails. Mel closes her eyes, wishing she could have had a few moments of rest. “Hang on, sunshine,” she mumbles. This morning isn’t any different than the others, but her body feels so much heavier today. The last few weeks have finally caught up to her. She pushes herself up off the bed, Enea’s cries ringing around her. Her legs move like lead weights are tied to them. Even her arms struggle to hold Enea, though she’s more than used to it.

She pulls down her shirt for Enea to latch, but he fusses and turns his head away. “Hey, come on.” She gently tries to guide him, but he isn’t having it. He’s so worked up that he isn’t cooperating. “Enea,” she snaps, though she immediately chides herself for raising her voice at a newborn. When he buries his face into her underboob, Mel finally gives up and yanks up her shirt. “Fine. Bottle it is. I’m too tired to fight you today.” Her breasts could use a break, anyway.

Enea cries plaintively as Mel trudges down the stairs with him. “Well, if you weren’t being such a gremlin, you’d be eating by now.” He is in a mood today, and normally it would just be a minor obstacle. With how exhausted she is, though, that obstacle becomes seemingly insurmountable. “Maybe you didn’t sleep too well. You were fussing a lot last night. Too much excitement.” Once they reach the kitchen, Mel begins to put a bottle together for him. It isn’t the easiest thing to do with just one arm. Again, normally not a big deal when she’s at her best, but she’s far from it this morning.

After fumbling the bottle and nearly spilling milk, she decides it’s too much a struggle. “I gotta put you down for a bit, bud.” His car seat sits on the floor next to the beat-up dining table. “Just for a minute or two.” She lays Enea down in it and steps back.

His cries turn into full-blown screams. Mel sighs and rubs her hands over her face. “Enea, please…” She hurries to put the bottle together. Her fingers jab the microwave buttons in rapid, practiced movements. She only puts it in for thirty seconds, but they feel like minutes. “Almost done, sunshine.” Once the microwave beeps, she yanks out the bottle and tests it. She yelps when the milk hits her skin; it’s too hot. “Shit,” she hisses as she shoves it into the fridge to cool it down. “Fucking busted microwave…”

Enea’s screams grow louder. Mel leans her head against the freezer door and fights her own urge to scream. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m trying…” She feels the now all-too-familiar sensation of tears stinging at her eyes. She knows she should just pick him up, but even that won’t entirely stop the crying. And her arms ache. Hell, everything seems to ache. She’s so tired.

Softly, from the doorway, a voice says, “What do you need?”

Mel’s head snaps up, and she almost whacks it on the freezer door handle. Standing on the other side of the kitchen is Vergil, wearing just a pair of pants and a thin undershirt. His hair isn’t even pushed back in its usual style. He glances down at their wailing son. “Is he all right?”

“I…” She almost believes she didn’t hear him right. Fighting through the cobwebs in her mind, Mel cobbles together a barely coherent answer. “Bad morning. He wants food but can’t keep still but wants to be held all the time. Can’t do both.”

Vergil kneels in front of Enea. “So he’s crying because he’s hungry, but he won’t keep still long enough for you to feed him. And he’s carrying on because he wants to be held while you’re trying to prepare him food.” He cocks an eyebrow at their son. “You’re awfully demanding for someone so small.” There’s a moment’s hesitation, then he slowly reaches out to Enea and picks him up. After careful adjustment, he’s carrying him securely in his arms. He sways gently, and within seconds Enea begins to settle down to soft whimpers. “Are you satisfied? Will you keep it down now so your mother can work in peace?”

He’s helping me. The thought alone nearly makes her burst into tears. But she doesn’t dare to do so, lest she spook Vergil. She sucks in a breath and pulls together her fraying scraps of sanity. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “Just waiting for his bottle to cool off a bit.”

Vergil nods, his attention more occupied with the baby. He offers Enea a finger to distract himself with. It’s met with a perplexed stare. Vergil presses it gently against Enea’s hand. Eventually Enea gets the hint and wraps his tiny fingers around his father’s. “Well now,” Vergil says quietly, a gentle smile forming. “you’ve got me.”

Mel almost forgets about the bottle, so wrapped up in watching them bond. With a blink she snaps back to attention. “I think it might be good now.” She pulls the bottle out and tests it against her arm. It’s still warm but not searing hot. “Yeah, that’s better.” Bottle in tow, she approaches the boys. “Hopefully he’s gonna be a little more cooperative.”

“Do you want me to feed him?”

Mel almost goes bug-eyed at the offer. She was honestly more than happy that he just held him and kept him entertained. She never thought he would go beyond that. “A… are you sure? I mean, if you want to, of course, but…”

“That’s why I offered. Admittedly, I could use a few pointers.”

“Yeah… I mean, yeah, I’ll-” Mel trips over her words. Not trusting herself to speak, she just motions towards the door.

They file into the office, and it’s then that Mel finally notices someone is missing. “Where’s Dante?”

Vergil sinks into the couch, using Dante’s usual pillow as an armrest. “In the basement, probably still asleep.”

“…oh…” Mel has no idea what to make of that. Her sleep-addled brain concocts a sluggish string of questions, but she can’t bring herself to ask them. “Um, just angle Enea up a little, and then…” She explains how to properly bottle feed him, adjusting Vergil’s hands and arms as needed until she’s satisfied. As soon as the bottle’s in his mouth, Enea begins to suck down the milk with gusto.

“You know, if you hadn’t thrown a fit earlier, you’d have eaten already.” Mel still can’t help but smile at the sight of him. “You and your daddy get to hang out, at least.”

“As long as he’s content.”

Mel leans back into the couch, taking the chance to have a moment’s rest. It’d be so easy for her to shut her eyes and drift off for a few minutes. She won’t, not with Vergil truly handling Enea for the first time. She just enjoys the peace and quiet while it lasts.

Vergil ends it with a pointed question. “What do you want from me, Mel?”

Her half-shut eyes snap open. Uneasiness settles into her stomach. His tone leaves no indication as to where he’s going with this newly started conversation. She fidgets with her fingers while she says, “I… I want you to stay, and be a part of Enea’s life. But I am not going to demand it. You… I know all too well how determined you are about your goals. That’s to say, you’re stubborn enough to keep pursuing it, even after the last attempt ended in disaster.”

“Yes… and no. Enea’s existence is all the more reason I should seek it out.” He turns to face her. In the way his eyes harden and the lines in his face tighten, Mel sees something in him for the first time: worry. “Mel, Mundus will find out about Enea. It’s only a matter of time. Try as I and Dante will to hide his existence, some way or another, he’ll get word. He isn’t exactly tolerating Sparda having sons, so he absolutely will not tolerate a grandson. Enea is years away from being able to defend himself in any meaningful way.” His expression softens when the fear overtakes her. “I’m not saying this to scare you, but you need to know. As Dante so… succinctly put it last night, having power means nothing if I’m not where I’m needed most.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… I don’t – I can’t give up on my goal, not entirely. I have concerns about Mundus’s hold over me. He’s gone, but he may reattempt to retake control. I need to find a way to protect myself. There will come a time that I – that Dante and I will have to face Mundus. I want to know I’m ready when that time comes.” He sighs quietly. “But I also know that I can’t go about it in the same way as I was before. It can’t be my entire purpose anymore. And… I’ve come to realize it isn’t really what I’ve been missing all these years.” He holds Enea a little closer. “What this will look like, how I go about finding that power… I don’t know yet. But, if you’re willing to let me, I want to be here for Enea, too. I want to be in his life.”

What Mel wants to do is calmly but happily acknowledge Vergil’s decision, and reassure him that of course she’s willing. She’s more than willing! But what Mel actually does involves far less serenity and considerably more full-blown sobbing. Briefly she catches Vergil’s panicked look before she buries her face in her hands, trying desperately to muffle her cries. “I’m sorry,” she blubbers out. “I’m – I’m not – I’m happy. I’m not upset.”

“You… seem… it, though…?”

Mel rapidly shakes her head. “I’m not sad. I’m really relieved.” She wipes furiously at her eyes. “Just… just so much has happened in the last month. And I was so worried you were gonna leave and I was trying to brace myself and…” She hiccups. “And I’m still kind of hormonal, honestly? Plus with all the stress, from having to leave Fortuna so quickly to getting here and everything that’s happened since…”

Vergil still looks skeptical about how not upset she claims she is, but he at least has the sense to not further argue it. “Why did you leave Fortuna so hastily? I understand you were worried-”

“Oh…” Mel sucks in a few dep breaths, trying to calm herself. “With everything going on with you and Mundus, I kind of forgot about what happened. Um… Mundus isn’t the only one we need to worry about.” She gathers herself enough to look at him in the eyes. “Though I don’t think they rank as high as him on the Worry Meter. But, um… the Order knows about Enea, what he is. They found out about us. They knew who you were the whole time, so when I got pregnant…” Mel still doesn’t know what they would have done, had she not gotten out. She doesn’t want to know. “They were watching me. Sister Oliva wouldn’t let me leave the island, and in the last few weeks they didn’t even bother to hide that they were surveilling me. The same day you were sent after me, a man came and woke me up in the middle of the night. He said I needed to get off the island immediately, or they would come and get me the next day. He didn’t know what they wanted Enea for, or what they planned to do, but he felt it was bad enough that we needed to leave. He helped me sneak out.” She owes her life to that man, and she’ll never be able to repay him for it. “So, yeah, I – I had bail out of there fast. I didn’t really stop and breathe until I was out of Europe, honestly.”

Vergil snarls, his grip almost tightening until he remembers at the last moment he’s holding a fragile baby. “Those scum. Whatever their intentions were, they’re not getting anywhere near him. Or you. I don’t think their reach goes much beyond their island. However, if they decide to extend their hand where it doesn’t belong, then they’re never stepping foot in Fortuna again.”

“No! No killing!”

Vergil scowls. “Yes, killing. I will not risk endangering you two.”

“Vergil-”

“They do not deserve your mercy. Undoubtedly they would not have extended any to you. If you weren’t willing to cooperate with whatever plans they had, what do you think they would have done? At best, they would have taken him from you.” The worst-case scenario remains unspoken, but it doesn’t need to be said. They both know.

Mel blows a long, frustrated sigh through her nose. His reasoning, however cold and callous, is sound. Vergil’s lived most of his life in survival mode, and that resulted in a man who regards mercy and compassion as detrimental forces. Perhaps over time, those edges will soften. For now, Mel offers a compromise instead. “Will you at least make sure that they’re actually after us and not here for some other unrelated reason? Killing them would draw attention, and if they didn’t know we were here, they soon would.”

She suspects that when Vergil hesitantly nods, it’s only because her own bit of calculating logic convinced him. “Fine, so long as the inquiry into it is short and doesn’t put either of you at risk.”

“Fine.” And so ends their first argument as… As what? The question reminds Mel that there is another matter they must settle, especially now that Vergil has declared he’s staying.

Vergil gently pulls the bottle from Enea. “He’s finished.”

“Okay. He needs to be burped.” She takes the empty bottle from Vergil and sets it aside to be cleaned out later. “His little diaphragm can’t quite do it on his own yet.” She holds out her hands for the baby. “I can show you how to do it.”

He hands her Enea. “It’s just patting his back firmly, no?”

“Yup. And listening for that little burp.” After she lays Enea against her shoulder, she begins to pat his back. She lays her cheek against his head. The momentary quiet affords her a chance to think over how to approach the next topic with Vergil.

“…Mel, he’s drooling on your shirt.”

She glances over at Vergil, who’s doing his best not to scrunch his nose. “Babies drool quite a bit. I could have put a burping rag down, but I’m just used to it at this point. If you’re going to stick around, you will, too.”

“You’re fine with drool on your clothes?”

“If you think that’s bad, wait ‘til you change his first diaper.” She’s looking forward to seeing Vergil’s face when he does. “The first time Dante did, he had to rinse him off in the sink.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Welcome to parenthood.” She hears a little burp. Enea’s still and seems to be content, so she doesn’t move him. “It’s gross, it’s tiring, it’s challenging. But hey.” She runs a hand over Enea’s hair, the silver strands catching in the dim light. “We made a pretty cute kid.”

Vergil pushes back his hair, belatedly realizing he hadn’t yet styled it. “I was, at best, a contributor.”

Mel rather liked it when it was hanging loose, but keeps that to herself. She expects the conversation to drift off there. She still hasn’t figured out how to approach Vergil about their relationship, and she hopes to use the quiet downtime to do so.

Vergil beats her to the punch again when he quietly asks, “Did you mean what you said that night?”

A lot had been said, but she has a good guess as to what he’s referring to. She nods. “I did. Every word.” He’s not the only one who’s been pondering the same question. She might have surprised him the other night with what she said, but so had he. “And you? Did you mean what you said?”

His brow furrows for a second. His memory of that night remains somewhat fuzzy in certain areas; it’s the only reason Mel doesn’t get upset that he doesn’t immediately know what she means. The moment it clicks for him, he ducks his head and nods. “Yes.”

“We…” Mel rubs Enea’s back, giving her hands something to do while she tries to think through how to say what she’s thinking. “We didn’t get over each other, did we? You know, I was so, so angry at you for a long time. It took me months before I was really able to think back on things clearly.” Her thoughts entangle themselves in her mind. She tries to parse them, but it’s too difficult. “And I… you… You hurt me really badly. It’s been hard to reconcile how I feel about you against how much you hurt me, and what you’ve done.”

“I never doubted that I hurt you, or that you would be angry. I was certain you had written me off. I never expected you to still care, let alone…” He sighs. “I suppose we are at least co-parents. If that’s all we remain, I… that is sufficient. I am not expecting anything beyond that.”

That right there is the heart of the issue. Co-parents, yes, but can they be something more again? Should they be? Mel rubs her cheek gently against Enea’s head, a soothing gesture for both of them. “I love you, but it’s hard to trust you with my heart again. I need more time.” She pats Enea’s back. “Right now, I don’t think romance is on our radar even if we wanted it to be. This little guy’s gonna take up a lot of our time.”

“He is awfully demanding.”

“You have no idea.”

As her worries and stress dissipate, banished by Vergil’s declaration, it finally sinks in that they’re sitting together, talking like they used to. Despite the odds being against them, they succeeded. They’re all together and everyone is okay. For the first time in weeks, she can relax. There’s nothing to worry about, aside from the usual day-to-day concerns. It’s finally over. Her arms no longer feel so heavy. She’s almost overtaken with giddiness, fueled by relief. A laugh escapes her.

“What?”

“No, I just… I can finally breathe again. I’ve been in a state of worry or panic for weeks now, and I finally don’t have to be anymore.”

The basement door suddenly swings open. Dante emerges, his hair still bedraggled. He yawns and shuffles into the office. “Mornin’.” He takes in the sight of the three of them sitting together. “Aren’t you guys cute. How’s the little scamp? I heard him screaming up a storm earlier.”

“Settled now that he’s fed. He got to hang out with his daddy during breakfast.”

Dante cocks an eyebrow at Vergil. “You fed him?”

“Mel supervised, but yes.”

His brother nods approvingly. He leans against his desk and says, “What’s the plan?”

“Vergil is staying.” Mel can’t fight the smile that forms from just saying it. “So I guess we gotta figure out what to do from there.”

He points at his brother. “You need to work and earn your keep.”

Vergil stiffens. With a sniff, he says, “Very well. I can begin looking tomorrow-”

“No no,” Mel cuts in. “You’re still recovering. He’s still recovering, Dante.”

“I didn’t mean right this second. Geez.” He rolls his eyes. “You can take a week to get your head on right. But I’m not gonna support you forever. You’ve got a family to take care of, so get it together and get a damn job.”

“How interesting. I’ve got a deadline to find work, but you still haven’t opened your business.”

“I’m going to soon. And I have money saved up, so I’m not broke, unlike some people.” Dante scoffs. “And hey, when business booms and I’ve got multiple jobs lined up, I might toss you one.”

“My, how magnanimous of you, little brother.”

Lady had warned Mel about the brothers when they’re together, and Mel’s very quickly beginning to understand what she meant. Dante’s talk of his future job reminds Mel of something. Though she fears she knows the answer, she asks, “You’re going to hunt demons, right? He would need a weapon.” She turns to Vergil. “Where’s Yamato? Did Mundus take it?”

The flash of pain answers her question well enough. But she’s surprised when he elaborates, “No. It broke during the battle. I lost it in the depths of the Underworld.”

Mel had harbored a distant hope that maybe, if Mundus had taken it, that it could be retrieved someday. Now, that hope is dashed. Her heart breaks. “Oh, Vergil… I’m so sorry. I know how much it meant to you.”

“Such is the price for my recklessness.”

Dante mutters a curse under his breath and glares at his brother. Vergil pointedly ignores it. Mel waits for either of them to speak, but whatever either of them is feeling, they’re not willing – or ready – to express it. As with a lot of emotional pitfalls, Mel decides it’s best to step around and let it be for now. “I’m sure something can be figured out by then.” She pushes on to another subject, one that’s far lighter. “What do we want to do today? Weather looks like it’s going to be nice. I do need to get a few things for the baby.”

Equally as desperate to move on, Vergil almost too quickly asks, “What does he need?”

“Diapers, mostly. If I can wing it, an outfit or two.” She blows out a sigh through her nose. “We need to save up so we can get a mattress for me so Dante can have his room back.”

“You’re lacking funds?”

“I don’t have much of anything left. Dante’s been footing everything, and I’m sure that’s eating through his savings pretty fast.”

“I told you,” Dante butts in with a frown. “it’s fine.”

“But I still feel bad-”

As they go back and forth, Vergil stands up and heads back into the basement. Mel trails off as she watches him leave. “Oh. Guess he didn’t want to hear it.”

Dante snorts and shrugs. “It’s Vergil. Who knows with him?”

She knows Vergil isn’t exactly patient, but he must have known that with her and Dante being chatterboxes, there would be-

Footsteps come up the stairs. The two pause and look over as Vergil emerges through the door. In his hand is a stack of cash. “There’s about five hundred dollars here. Is that sufficient?”

Mel’s eyes all but bulge out of her head. “Where did you get that kind of money?!”

“…I’ve had it for some time. Honestly, I’m surprised I still have it. I thought Mundus would have gotten rid of it. I suppose he didn’t see the point.”

“Okay, but how did you-”

Dante waves his hand to silence Mel. “Knowing him, you don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. If we don’t ask, we don’t have to worry about it.” He nods to his brother. “That should do it. Hell, we might be able to get a cheap bedframe to go with it, and get some extra stuff for the kid. Not a bad start, brother. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull your weight.”

As the brothers discover, Mel has a knack for finding a good bargain. Along with finding what was needed, they also score a mattress, a basic bed frame, and even a baby stroller. The mattress and frame will be delivered within a few days, putting an end in sight to Dante’s nights on the couch (and Vergil’s nights in the basement). A bit winded after a morning of shopping, the family’s taking a break at a local park.

Family. Dante wonders at the word. It once was just a wistful dream and a painful memory of a time long gone. Now it’s a reality. Enea’s sleeping in his new (used) stroller, bundled up lightly in a blanket. Mel and Vergil are talking. Dante’s tuned out their conversation, but it appears to be going fine. At one point, Mel laughs at something Vergil says.

His brother isn’t the same person when he’s around Mel. There’s a softness in the way he speaks to her. That one track-mindedness he knows him for gives way to intellect and curiosity. He’s still pretentious and an asshole, but around her, he’s at least a tolerable one. If that Vergil sticks around, then maybe, just maybe, they have a chance at making this work.

Dante focuses back on the present moment, only to find Mel fidgeting with her fingers. Vergil seems as curious as Dante about it.

“…hey, guys?” Mel’s voice softens to an almost whisper. “There’s, um… something I should probably tell you, although I think I’m going to sound crazy.”

“You realize who you’re talking to, right?” Dante says wryly.

“I know, but this is…” She blows out a steadying breath. “I… think I… heard your father’s voice when I touched Force Edge the other day.” She nervously tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, crazy, I know, and I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I don’t know who else it could have been. And then there was the weird dream…”

“What dream?” the brothers ask at once.

“Um… I dreamed I was in this big house.” She describes what she saw to them. “I was trying to find Enea, and eventually I found him in this big sunroom. After I picked him up, I heard a voice calling out to me. It led me outside, and there was this big tree a ways off from the house. A man was kneeling in front of it, and I think there was someone else there, but I couldn’t see who it was. When I got close, the kneeling man turned around and… he looked a lot like you guys.”

Dante and Vergil exchange a look. The elder twin then says, “That mansion you described was our childhood home.”

“…Wait, really?” Mel’s eyes dart back and forth between them. “So, then…”

“A fragment of our father’s soul was in the Force Edge. It spoke to me when it transformed into his devil sword. That’s how I was able to start breaking free from Mundus.” Vergil clasps his hands together and leans his arms against his knees. “So, no, you’re not crazy. It seems Father had something to say to you, too.”

“He did tell me it would be all right.” Mel gestures with her chin at Dante. “Did he speak to you at all?”

Dante snorts. “No.” He pauses as he remembers what happened in the basement. “But there was a moment the other day when I thought I sensed him. After I was badmouthing him, of course.”

“Serves you right,” Vergil says with an indignant sniff.

Mel sighs wistfully, looking over at Enea. “It’s so sad that they’ll never meet. Enea’s not going to know any of his grandparents. Not that the ones on my side are worth anything, but it sounds like your parents would have been wonderful grandparents.”

Vergil says nothing, his expression solemn. Dante mutely nods. “Yeah. Mom would have spoiled him rotten.”

The three of them are keenly aware of the dip in mood. It hangs over them like a dreary little raincloud. Mel forces on a smile and claps her hands against her knees. “Everyone rested up? Should we get moving?”

The boys a little too enthusiastically agree and get to their feet. Vergil takes his turn to push the stroller. Mel walks alongside him, quietly tucking Enea’s blanket around him and ensuring he’s all nice and cozy for the remainder of their walk. Dante takes his spot just a couple feet ahead of them, shoving his hands into his pockets as they resume their stroll.

It’s hard to not imagine what things would have been like in a world where they weren’t orphans. Eva would dote on her grandson, and Sparda too. They would be there to lend support and advice to the new parents. Instead of a bachelor pad in a dingy city neighborhood, their home would be a mansion with plenty of space. Enea could grow up with everything he could ever want, instead of living a life of paycheck to paycheck. And Dante knows his parents would like Mel. He doesn’t know much about her past, but it seems her parents weren’t around. They’d welcome her into their family with open arms.

His heart twists at what could have been, but never will be.

They’re gone. It never stops hurting whenever he says it, but it’s true. Life might not be ideal, but at least they’re alive to live it. His family is together, however small it may be. Dante has his brother back, and they’re on course to start things over. Maybe they might even be able to repair their relationship. He’s got something of a sister in Mel. Enea may not have grandparents, but he has both his parents and an uncle. Not a damn soul is gonna change that. He’s not gonna grow up like Vergil and I did. He’ll be the cool, fun uncle, but he’s also going to be the uncle that ensures the family doesn’t tear itself apart again. Never again. Who knows how things will ultimately turn out, but he will fight to get them there in one piece.

“Any idea what jobs you’re going to look at?”

Dante’s mind moseys back to reality. He just barely catches Mel’s question. He subtly slows his steps to overhear Vergil’s answer.

“No.” Dante dares a glance over his shoulder. Vergil looks displeased. “My skills do not translate well into most jobs.”

“You can start with something menial, and go from there.” Mel shrugs as Vergil’s scowl deepens. “Hey, work is work.”

Dante sees a golden opportunity to tease his twin. With a shit-eating grin, he suggests, “The Cluck-in-a-Bucket downtown is hiring. You can manage some basic customer service and money counting, right?”

“The what?”

Mel bursts into a giggling fit, hand clasped over her mouth to muffle the noise. Her face burns red in amplified laughter as Vergil narrows his eyes at her. “Can you imagine him doing that?” she squeaks out between fits of laughter. “And with the hat?”

“What hat?”

Dante snickers. “The proud employee uniform of Cluck-in-a-Bucket consists of a bright yellow shirt, black pants, a red bowtie for the guys…” His laughter almost overtakes him to the point where he can’t talk. “…and a chicken head for a hat.”

Mel’s to the point of tears, and her cackling only increases when Vergil stares at them both in a look that’s nothing short of horrified. “Are you trying to strip me of all my dignity?”

“And he’d have to say the line, too! ‘Welcome to Cluck-in-a-Bucket, the cluckiest and pluckiest place on Earth!’” Dante shoves his fist into his mouth to contain his laughter.

A peal of laughter finally escapes Mel as she bends over, shoulders shaking so hard Dante half-expects them to dislocate.

Vergil’s glower only deepens. “And here I thought I was loved.”

“You are,” Mel says as she wipes away some tears. “We’re lovingly tormenting you.”

“You decided to stay, so this is what you signed up for.” Dante wonders if his brother truly knows what he’s stepped into. The two people who love him are also the two people who know him best. They’re also two people who delight in teasing him. “Someone has to keep you from taking yourself seriously all of the time.”

“It’s a lot of work,” Mel adds with a smile. “Heck, it might be too much even for the two of us.” She reaches over and gently wiggles Enea’s foot. “We’ll have to train him.”

Vergil huffs out an irritated sigh. “Don’t turn our son against me. I need one person who isn’t actively torturing me at every opportunity.”

Mel snorts. “You say that like he won’t when he’s older. He’ll be a teenager someday.”

As Vergil groans at the thought, Dante’s mind wanders. It’s years away, but he finds it wild to even consider that little baby in the stroller will one day be a sulking, hormonal teenager. Then he’ll be a grown man, with a personality and dreams of his own. What will he be like? What kind of person is he going to be an uncle to? The possibilities excite him. There’s so much to look forward to. To think that just a month ago, he was alone and had nothing but work in his future.

It won’t be easy, though. Dante’s laidback about many things, but even he knows raising a kid will be a challenge, at best. The brunt of that responsibility will be on the two people walking behind him, but he’ll have a hand in it, too. And speaking of the couple…

Dante hadn’t exactly been sleeping during their long conversation this morning. A vent runs from the office to the basement, and it carries sound fairly well. He had been an accidental eavesdropper to their tête-à-tête. They have quite a lot to work out; that carries considerable uncertainty into their future. Maybe I’ll give my brother a hand, if he doesn’t screw things up. He meant what he had said in the basement last night: Vergil’s not going to do better than what he has now. Dante will be damned if he watches him blow his chance. But one thing at a time. For now, they’re co-parents. Co-parents with no shortage of chemistry and unresolved feelings, he notes with amusement. If nothing else, it’ll be hilarious to watch Vergil stumble his way through a relationship. The potential entertainment value alone makes it worth the wait.

Really, it’s all going to be worth the wait. Sure, things could be better, but they could be so much worse. They almost were. It’s an unsettling realization that all of this hinged on the kindness of a stranger. To think that he would not have known about her or Enea, or known about what happened to Vergil… He barely withholds a shudder. He would have been alone, oblivious to his family’s suffering. Stop thinking about it. It didn’t happen, and that’s what matters.

Enea whines. Mel huffs out an exasperated sigh. “So much for a long nap.” She reaches in and adjusts his blanket so it’s looser. “But you’re comfy, aren’t you?”

A single shriek is his answer.

Vergil picks him up. “He wants to be held, if I had to guess.” Sure enough, the baby settles as soon as he’s nestled into the crook of Vergil’s arm. “Absolutely demanding. There is no pleasing you unless it’s exactly your way.”

Dante snorts and says over his shoulder, “I wonder who he gets that from.”

“Shut up.”

Mel giggles, giving Dante a smile as Vergil scowls. Dante grins in return. Not just because he got under his brother’s skin, but because this moment will be like so many others. This is it, this is his life going forward. Moments like this and many more to come.

Things… are going to be okay.