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Chapter Text

Vergil had not expected to survive.

He’d only narrowly escaped his battle with Mundus, and even then, only by pure luck. Their fight had drawn the attention of other demons, and three large ones had tried to use the distraction to ambush Mundus. It was only while he was busy with them that Vergil slipped away.

Horrifically wounded and weak, escaping the Demon World was no small feat. When he finally managed it, he was not even sure how long he’d been gone for.

It didn’t matter; he knew it wouldn’t be long before his presence was no longer sensed in the Demon World and bastards like Mundus knew he’d escaped. They’d come looking for him. A weakened son of Sparda would be a prime target for demons.

Vergil dragged his broken body along the area he’d escaped into. He found it painfully ironic when he realized he’d wound up in Fortuna, of all places. Some of the idiot cultists had likely opened the temporary portal Vergil had escaped through in their pathetic attempts to summon Sparda.

He hid himself away and lost consciousness, though he was unsure how long he was out for.

When he woke up, he forced himself to get moving. He could steal a robe and make it through Fortuna mostly undetected. His staggered walking would hopefully be dismissed as one of the elders making their way along the streets. 

It felt like it took him years to reach the city. When he did, he managed to snatch an unattended robe and drape it over himself, pulling the hood up. 

He had no money. He’d have to steal some food, and preferably some bandages. His wounds weren’t healing as fast as usual. His body seemed to be too weak to properly repair itself. 

He was browsing a market when the Yamato began to react.

It was faint, just a glow that Vergil hastily adjusted the robe to conceal. It was giving the lightest tug. Vergil looked over at a building, where he felt the tug coming from.

Danger? No, he didn’t think it was danger.

His stomach dropped. Dante? Was the sword sensing Sparda’s blood?

He had to know. If Dante was here, Vergil would have to flee. He could not let his brother find him, especially not in this poor state. 

He tried to save me.

Vergil stubbornly shook the thought off as he limped along the building, trying to find the entrance. Dante had been ready and willing to kill him. They were too different to ever coexist peacefully, regardless of if they had tried to save each other in the end.

Because Vergil could not deny it; he had warned his brother the portal was closing because he knew Dante was not meant for the Demon World. His twin was made for the human world and all the joys and despairs it offered. His quest was happiness, not strength. Seeing him trapped down there would’ve been…would’ve been…

He cut off his own thoughts. No time for that foolishness when he could potentially be walking into danger.

He found the entrance of the building. Two others were pulling the door open, so Vergil slipped inside with them.

The two veered off for what appeared to be an office. Vergil concentrated on the pull of the Yamato, following it as it grew stronger.

He stopped outside a door, placing his hand on the Yamato’s hilt. The tug was most powerful here. Whatever he was being led towards, it was inside. If it was Dante, Vergil would be prepared to fight, even if it was his final battle. He would not go down easily.

He pushed the door open, ready to slash out at whatever laid beyond. He froze at the sight before him.

A small child in a playpen looked up at him. Big, blue eyes locked on Vergil before drifting to the glowing Yamato. The child let out a curious noise and reached his chubby little hands for the sword, white hair tumbling over his forehead.

Vergil could not move.

No, certainly not. That woman…Fortuna…

“Not now,” Vergil choked out, running a hand over his face.

The child was likely the right age. He had Vergil’s eyes and hair. And the Yamato-

He knelt beside the playpen, bringing the sword close. It glowed, recognizing its descendent. The child’s curious babbles turned into a delighted little squeal as he pressed on the mesh of the playpen to try and get to the sword. 

Vergil stared at the child. Baby, really. Vergil tried to remember that time and add nine months. He realized it was pointless, as he had no idea what year it even was anymore. He didn’t know how long he’d been trapped for, but clearly not that long if this child - his child - was still so young. 

He could not deny the facts. This boy was his son. 

But, dammit, he didn’t have time for this right now. 

Still, he felt furious with his own sense of duty. He couldn’t leave the child here. Especially not with demons hunting him. If they discovered Vergil had escaped through a portal in Fortuna, they might search here and find the child. 

No, Vergil couldn’t leave him. He looked at the child and clenched his fists. This boy was helpless, and completely unaware of the danger he was in just by existing.

Vergil sheathed his sword. The child made an unhappy noise and pounded his little fists against the mesh.

“Enough of that,” Vergil said, pushing back against the mesh.

The boy was uncoordinated enough that he nearly tipped over at the sudden force, letting out an indignant little yelp. He huffed and scowled up at Vergil.

God, he was going to be a handful.

Vergil couldn’t just kidnap the boy, though. He was too weak to leave Fortuna. It was a good place to hide when he was being hunted; the Knights from the Order protected the city from demons, and would alert the citizens if any slipped through. It would be a convenient security system. Plus with the common use of robes, Vergil could easily hide his identity without any questions being asked. 

He stood and reluctantly backed out of the room, backtracking to the entrance of the building. He investigated the papers posted along the walls and could’ve kicked himself for not reading them before.

It was an orphanage.

So had that woman…

He pushed the thought from his mind. It did not matter. One less burden for him to shoulder right now. He could not protect both her and the boy, and so it was best only the boy was here.

How to play this? 

The best truths came from lies. He walked towards the office the people earlier had gone to. He had little plan, but his backup was to grab the boy and flee. It would be best to stay in Fortuna, but he’d do what he had to.

He let himself into the office. A woman at a desk looked up at him.

“Yes, may I help you?” she asked.

He tried to straighten up, pushing his hood down just enough to show his face and hair, but keeping it up enough that it might disguise the bruises on his face as shadows. He tried to project the dignity and elegance that had been so natural to him before Dante had defeated him.

“I have been searching for my son,” he said. His voice came out rough from disuse, but he supposed that was for the best. Maybe it’d make him sound older. “I-” He thought fast. “I lost contact with his mother shortly after he was conceived. I’ve been trying to locate him and my investigation led me here.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, I- my, we have a child here who looks just like you. Same hair and eyes, even the same nose. Nero. Naughty little thing most days. He was abandoned here. No one ever saw his mother.”

Vergil had no idea why she would have left the boy here, except that she was likely dead. It didn’t matter.

“He would be younger than two,” Vergil said, his best guess. 

“Yes!” she said, and seemed almost relieved. How naughty was the boy that she seemed excited at the thought of getting rid of him? “Here, come with me.”

She led him out of the office and into the room he’d found the boy in. She gestured to him as he pressed his hands to the mesh again, looking at Vergil’s robe as if expecting to see the Yamato glowing again. Vergil could feel that pull and made sure it was securely concealed beneath his robe.

“Many of the children end up being taken in by families of the Order,” the woman explained as she went over to the playpen and plucked Nero out. “This one tends to get passed over. We call this his prison cell, because it’s where we stick him when he’s too fussy or acting up again.”

She held him out to Vergil. He awkwardly took the baby into his arms.

Nero swatted at Vergil’s robe and made a disapproving noise. He clearly felt the presence of the sword and wanted to explore it.

The woman cocked her head to the side curiously. “Oh, he looks just like you. He’s got all your features. This wouldn’t be the first time a parent has found their child here, but it always amazes me to see families reunited like this. You must really love him if you’ve been searching so hard for him.”

Vergil just barely managed not to snort. “This is him. I am positive of it.” Vergil was good at studying people, and he could see those similarities in the boy now. “He has her lips and ears.”

Such strange little things to notice. Vergil must’ve been more exhausted than he felt to have said it out loud.

He anticipated questions and heavy background checks to take the child. But Fortuna was very old fashioned, and orphans were regularly passed along to families of the Order. Besides, the woman didn’t seem all that concerned about the fate of the boy, so long as someone got him out of her hair.

She had Vergil fill out paperwork. As he did so, she chatted to him about his living accommodations.

“Where in Fortuna are you from?” she asked.

He figured he’d lied himself this far into the situation, so he may as well keep at it. “I lived here when I was…with his mother. I left a few years ago. I’ve yet to situate myself back in the city. I was- more focused on finding him. I’d like to stay and raise him here, though.”

She scribbled a name down on a piece of paper and passed it to him. “Speak with her, over at the church. She’ll help you get on your feet here.”

Vergil wanted to berate her for sending a baby with a strange man who had just admitted to having no home. Instead, he finished filling out the paperwork and graciously accepted the horrific way adoptions were run at the orphanage.

The woman sent him with a bag of basic needs for the child- food, diapers, and the few articles of clothing the child had. He had no belongings besides the few bits of clothing. That clothing and his name were all he had to him.

Nero.

Vergil carried the boy out of the orphanage, then had to sit heavily on a bench. Nero continued to swat relentlessly at Vergil’s robe, making his displeasure known with every aggressive swat and increasingly high-pitched whines.

Vergil adjusted his robe so that the boy was partially wrapped in it. His little eyes widened as Vergil slid the Yamato out of the scabbard just enough for the boy to see the glow. He grabbed at the hilt, mesmerized.

Vergil felt overwhelmed as he looked at the baby. He’d just escaped the damn Demon World only to discover he’d accidentally fathered a supposedly naughty child. And a not entirely human child, if the Yamato’s reaction to the boy was any indicator. 

Vergil did not even know how to properly hold the boy. What the hell was he thinking, taking the child along when he was barely strong enough to protect himself?

But then he looked at those wide, fascinated eyes. This child was innocent. Demons had no true reason to hurt him, but they would if they discovered his bloodline. 

Vergil had a duty to this child. He told himself it was because he valued the Sparda bloodline too much to let a descendent of it be left unclaimed or killed. 

In reality, his mind flashed to that day so long ago as he cowered and screamed for a mother who never came for him.

Maybe Vergil had been abandoned. But his son would not be.

He wrapped an awkward, unsure arm around the boy. He would protect Nero, bitterly aware that children were incapable of protecting themselves and refusing to let his son suffer the fate he’d suffered years ago.

Chapter Text

The Order was always eager for new members, especially ones who could be Knights. Vergil was aware of this and talked casually about his experience with swords when he found the contact the woman at the orphanage had given him. He made sure to emphasize that he would be training his son to be a fighter.

At the idea of two potential Knights, the woman pulled on resources to help them get set up with a small home. Members of the Order donated food for their less fortunate worshippers, and the woman secured some of those donations for Vergil. The Order did not fully provide for its needy, but it also couldn’t afford to lose members, so it provided just enough to make them feel supported and loyal. 

When she asked about work experience, he lied and said he used to be a research assistant, studying demonology. To excuse his injuries, he said he was recovering after a nearly fatal car accident.

She told him to take the week to recover and settle in with his son, then she’d set him up with a position in the library for work. Vergil supposed at least that way he could continue his research. He’d need to know everything he could about what demons might be hunting him.

Once he was alone with the boy, he explored the tiny house. It was one floor, with few rooms. Only one bedroom, where an old bed with a thin blanket was. 

Vergil was checking the security of the windows when the boy suddenly began to cry.

It seemed to come on all at once, piercing wails. He grabbed fistfuls of Vergil’s robe and threw his head back as he cried, fat tears rolling down his reddened cheeks.

Vergil started at the sudden outburst. He looked helplessly at the child.

“What?” he said, aware the child couldn’t fully understand him or communicate.

He tried to think fast, but his mind was muddled by pain and exhaustion. The crying was already giving him a headache.

He shifted the boy and one thought slid into place. Diaper. Right. Nero wore a diaper.

He hesitantly checked Nero’s diaper, but it was still clean. He furrowed his brow though, because Nero appeared to have a bad rash on his bottom. 

Likely not the problem right now. Vergil shrugged it off as a problem for later. He set Nero on the bed and put his hands on his hips as he stared down at him.

He put his hands over his ears as he tried to think. Was the kid tired? He had no idea what Nero’s sleep schedule was like.

He grew increasingly frustrated as the minutes passed and Nero’s wailing grew worse. It was a simultaneous relief and embarrassment when the child put a hand over his stomach.

“Food,” Vergil said, hastily scooping Nero up into one arm. He took him out to the kitchen and set him on the counter, digging through the bag they’d given him at the orphanage. He pulled out a jar of food, uncapping it. He didn’t know where the silverware was and was so desperate to get the kid to stop crying that he grabbed Nero’s hand and dumped a small pile into it.

Nero slapped his hand to his mouth, his cries ceasing. As he practically ate his own hand, Vergil searched around until he found a spoon. He didn’t have a damn clue how much a baby was supposed to eat, but this kid could have as much as he wanted if it kept him quiet.

Nero ate a surprising amount before whining when Vergil brought the spoon near again. He swatted it away.

As Vergil was setting the food down, Nero began to crawl along the counter. He nearly fell off and Vergil reached out, yanking the boy’s arm to keep him from slipping.

Nero let out another piercing wail, pulling his arm free and crying again. When Vergil reached for him, Nero let out another wail and flinched away.

“You survived Mundus,” Vergil reminded himself, gritting his teeth. “It. Is. A. Baby.”

It turned out that babies are much, much worse than demons.

Vergil spent half the night trying to soothe the baby when he cried. He occasionally cried when Vergil picked him up. He cried when he soiled his diaper. He cried when Vergil struggled to figure out how to change the dirty diaper. He cried when Vergil set him in the laundry basket to keep him from crawling away while Vergil showered. He cried when Vergil turned the lights out to go to bed. He cried periodically throughout the night. 

Vergil had just managed to change him after feeding him in the morning. He pulled the robe on and tucked the child into his arms as he left the house. He needed to do research.

Not on demons, but babies. One night was all it took for Nero to shatter any illusion Vergil had crafted of being able to handle this.

He took the child with him to the library. He sat himself down at a computer and put Nero in his lap, partially unsheathing the Yamato because it distracted the baby.

He dove into research, taking notes as he read. He researched sleeping patterns, dietary needs, how to change a diaper, and what age babies started talking. This would be so much easier if the kid could just voice his needs.

Results on that one were not very promising. 

He was so exhausted from Nero’s constant crying that it took him hours to realize the date was on the bottom of the computer screen. He stared at it, then rubbed his eyes. He’d been battling his way through the Demon World for so long.

He was twenty now. Nearing twenty-one. He tried to do the math in his head on how old the kid would be. Nearly two, most likely. His original guess seemed to be correct.

Then he got back to research. When he started to nod off, he called it quits for the day, getting up. He left the library, and without the Yamato to distract him, Nero was right back to crying. 

“If Mundus does manage to take you, I think he will give you back within minutes,” Vergil said tiredly. 

Still, he trudged back to the house and fed Nero. He dozed off with the kid in his lap for a bit before Nero woke him with crying.

He dragged the kid into the bathroom and changed his diaper like he’d read about online. He was angry with himself as he realized he’d forgotten to look into the rash Nero had.

Back out, then. That discomfort may have been playing a role in Nero’s constant crying. He left the house and wandered through the city until he found a pharmacy.

“May I help you?” the pharmacist asked as Vergil came up to the counter.

“My son has a bad rash. Is there anything that could help?” he asked. In an attempt to sound like a decent parent, he added the lie, “Just to help until I can get him to a doctor.”

The pharmacist frowned. “What kind of rash?”

Not wanting to expose Nero’s bottom to a random stranger and make this whole thing even more uncomfortable, Vergil carefully pulled Nero’s pants and diaper down until the edge of the rash was visible.

“Oh! Poor honey,” she said at the sight. Then her eyes shot suspiciously to Vergil. “A rash that bad would be from him being left in dirty diapers for too long.”

Vergil went tense at the thought of Nero alone in that playpen. “He was not in my care until yesterday.”

“Well, whoever’s care he was in, I’d confront them or file a complaint,” the pharmacist said. “I do have something that can help. Poor baby. He must’ve been so uncomfortable. When did you notice it?”

“Yesterday,” Vergil said. He thought of that woman so eager to be rid of Nero. “I suspect he’s had it a while.”

She helped him find a salve for Nero’s rash. He was dejected to spend some of what little money that member of the Order had given him, but it was necessary.

He took Nero back home and applied the salve. Nero tried to squirm away from him, right back to crying at Vergil’s touch.

But once Vergil managed to get the salve on, Nero settled. He yawned and curled up, closing his eyes to nap.

Vergil picked him up and set him on the bed. He sat next to Nero, staring down at the little boy.

How badly had he been neglected? How often had they set him in that playpen and left him alone there for being “naughty”? Yes, the boy cried a lot and was prone to hitting when he was upset, but he’d yet to do anything that Vergil could imagine would require such isolation. 

Still, he felt angry and troubled. He wouldn’t call himself an expert in children, but from his research, he’d learned the boy was at an age where he should at least be capable of a few words. All Vergil had heard from him so far were varying types of cries and the occasional odd noise. 

He was capable of standing and performing some awkward waddle akin to walking, at least. Still, he tended to crawl more than walk.

Vergil clenched his fist. His son was behind in development. This was not a boy who had been properly cared for or taught basic skills. His lack of vocabulary made Vergil wonder if anyone even spoke to the boy often enough for him to have grasped language.

Vergil rubbed his eyes, feeling tired. Tomorrow he could look into it more. It seemed the child’s development fell to Vergil now.

Maybe it would be good. It would give Vergil something semi productive to do while he recovered from his many injuries. 

“Reduced to this,” Vergil grumbled, leaning back on the bed. 

He forced himself up, grabbing the Yamato. He went out to the living room, which was not a particularly large room but had at least enough space for Vergil to swing his sword around carefully. 

He practiced his form before moving into light slashing exercises, trying to get a feel for his blade again. He’d used it plenty in his time in the Demon World, but as his body weakened, his attacks had become disgustingly sloppy towards his escape. 

He focused now on slashing artfully, despite the spikes of pain it sent through his shoulders and back. He grit his teeth and pushed through the pain. If he could not even perform basic slashes in a controlled environment, he would not survive a demonic encounter.

Vergil became so concentrated on balancing his pain with his movements that he only noticed the boy when he spun around in a slashing motion. The boy sat in the doorway, watching with a mesmerized expression. 

“How did you- never mind.” The bed was not very far off the ground. He was just glad to know the boy had enough intelligence to get himself from the bed to the floor without severe injury. 

Vergil sheathed his sword and strode over to the boy. Nero looked disappointed that the show was over.

Vergil lifted the child. A sharp jolt of pain went along his shoulder at the movement and he hissed out a pained breath, tightening his hold on Nero.

Nero let out a frightened wail, pushing roughly at Vergil’s hands on him. Vergil was exhausted from his training and frustrated that such basic movement tired him out so thoroughly; he had no patience for the screaming boy in his arms.

“Nero,” he snapped. “Stop that. Stop crying, you wretched thing!”

Nero cringed back and cried harder. He put his little hands over his ears and bawled, fat tears falling down his cheeks.

Vergil stared at the boy’s reaction, then glared. Perhaps he was just reading too much into it. Or perhaps Nero was too used to being grabbed roughly and yelled at.

Vergil set Nero back on the bed. Nero tried to crawl away from Vergil, slipping on the blanket and abandoning the attempt. He laid on his stomach and cried into the mattress.

Vergil glanced at his sword. He could always get some practice in by slicing up the workers at the orphanage.

No, he needed to stay in Fortuna for now. He’d have to deal with Nero’s sensitive nature.

“Stop this,” Vergil said, rolling Nero onto his back before the kid could suffocate himself. He pulled his hand away and waved it irritably. “No one is touching you. Stop.” 

Nero did not stop. He cried and cried until he finally cried himself back to sleep.

Vergil stared at his sleeping child. He felt a whole new wave of exhaustion at the knowledge that this was his life now. He had no idea what he was doing with a small child. But he’d have to rise to the challenge, like he always had before. He just hoped the exhaustion didn’t kill him before the demons did.

Chapter Text

Vergil was startled to discover that Nero did, in fact, have a small vocabulary.

He found this out in a frustrating way, as everything seemed to be when it came to Nero. He’d checked some parenting and demonology books out of the library - ignoring the strange look the librarian gave him - and tried to read those in snatches between caring for Nero.

When Nero was being particularly fussy, Vergil finally got frustrated enough to grab the laundry basket out of the bathroom and drag it into the bedroom. Nero probably needed a nap, but had crawled his way into near trouble multiple times already. Vergil couldn’t have the child running loose while he tried to work.

Instead, he stuffed the blanket into the laundry basket and plopped the boy into it. Nero let out his usual offended whine, pushing his fists against the side of the laundry basket. It was wide enough to fit the child, but too tall for the little escape artist to manage his way out of. 

“Nap,” Vergil commanded him. He flicked the lights off and shut the bedroom door.

And then the shrieking started.

It was a panicked shrieking, wavering with sobs. Vergil rubbed his temples; the boy would cry himself to sleep eventually.

Except he didn’t.

Vergil plugged his ears as he tried to read, but Nero’s screaming was relentless. Vergil tried his hardest to ignore it, but he eventually flung himself off the couch and stormed into the bedroom, the door smacking the wall with the force of Vergil’s anger.

Nero continued to scream. His hands were red from how hard he’d been beating them against the laundry basket, and Vergil was honestly surprised the boy hadn’t managed to tip himself over in it.

He spotted Vergil and reached his hands at Vergil, screaming louder. Vergil grit his teeth and stomped over, kneeling before the basket.

“Stop!” he commanded. “Stop your crying. You are staying in there.”

He stood up and headed for the door. Nero’s screaming grew more frantic as he saw Vergil retreating.

“No!” he wailed.

Vergil froze, looking over his shoulder. “What?”

“No! No! No no no nonono!” the boy shrieked, throwing his body at the basket.

This time it did fall over, Nero smacking his chin on it as he fell. He was screaming so loudly that Vergil’s head was pounding.

Vergil went over and righted the basket, snatching Nero out. Nero took fistfuls of Vergil’s shirt in a deathgrip. 

Vergil experimentally lowered Nero back towards the basket. Nero tightened his hold.

“No!” he cried, tiny legs kicking at Vergil roughly. “No, no, no!”

Vergil straightened up. Tempted as he was to lock the boy in the room again, he could not stand this incessant screaming.

He turned the lights back on. Nero sucked in a gasping breath like he was going to scream again, but at the sudden light, it came out as a surprised hiccup and his screaming died down to his usual crying.

“You’re afraid of the dark,” Vergil said.

Nero hiccuped again. He refused to release Vergil’s shirt.

Vergil ran a hand over his eyes. He was so tired he hadn’t turned the lights off at night. He simply didn’t have the energy to get up once he’d collapsed into bed.

But the boy had screamed the other time Vergil left him in the dark. He thought again of Nero in that playpen, alone in the room. Would they leave him trapped in there in the dark?

“A warrior cannot be afraid of the dark, Nero,” Vergil scolded. 

Nero only sniffled and clung to Vergil. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No!”

Vergil was going to start screaming next. Instead, he dragged the last shreds of his composure kicking and screaming into his body. 

“Dark,” he said, another experiment.

Nero whined, tightening his hold again. “No!”

So he understood the word, if not the concept. Had it been used as a threat against him?

Vergil took the boy out to the couch, setting him down there instead. Nero scooted away from Vergil, looking distrustfully from him to the bedroom.

“My headache can’t take putting you back in the dark,” Vergil informed him.

“No!” Nero whimpered.

Vergil wondered what his life had come to that he actually said the ridiculous, childish phrase of, “No dark. No dark, Nero.”

It worked, though. Nero relaxed a little and curled up at the arm of the couch. He silently cried himself to sleep, face turned towards the bedroom as if to make sure the room itself didn’t come to life and drag him inside its dark reaches. 

Vergil tossed his demonology book aside and opted for one of the parenting books on children’s speech he’d grabbed. He read it thoroughly, displeased to realize that at Nero’s age, he should certainly be capable of more than just shouting “no” when he was upset. He was nearly two years old. And as Vergil’s offspring, surely he should be more than capable of simple tasks like speaking.

Vergil read until Nero woke back up. He picked the boy up off the couch and set him on his feet.

“Let’s go eat,” Vergil said. He felt foolish doing it, but the book had said repetition helped children learn. “Eat, Nero.”

Nero held his arms out to Vergil. Vergil shook his head sternly.

“You can walk,” he said.

Nero huffed his displeasure, apparently back to his noises instead of his distress word. Vergil walked slowly towards the kitchen. Nero took a few awkward, waddling steps forward. 

It took a painfully long time to get Nero to walk to the kitchen. He kept trying to sit and crawl, but Vergil would just go over and put him back on his feet until the stubborn brat’s hunger won out over his desire to torture his father.

Vergil got Nero his food and made a sandwich for himself. For lack of a highchair, he just set Nero on the table and let him eat there. Definitely not a habit he wanted to form, though. He’d have to invest in things for Nero when he could.

“Nero,” Vergil said.

Nero turned to look at him curiously. Vergil waited until he was distracted by food, then said his name again. Nero looked once more, and once more abandoned Vergil for food. Vergil said a random word, and Nero did not respond. He tried twice more before saying Nero’s name and getting the boy’s attention.

So he knew his name, at least. But what was Vergil supposed to do, go through a dictionary and say every word until he knew the extent of Nero’s vocabulary?

He seemed to react to distress. What about a minor distress? 

Vergil snatched away Nero’s food as he went to get another bite of it. Nero let out a dramatic, offended noise.

He reached for the food, but Vergil held it away. “No. You’re done eating, Nero. No more food.”

Nero whined louder, crawling along the table. Vergil put a hand out and held Nero in place.

“No,” Vergil said.

Nero surprised Vergil by smacking him in the face. “Ba’ boy!”

“That was…unexpected,” Vergil said, wiping his face. Nero had food all over his fingers. He handed the food back to Nero, who squealed in pleasure and resumed eating. 

Well, it seemed Nero did have some semblance of vocabulary, limited as it was. Vergil did not like the implication of what Nero knew and what triggered him into using that knowledge. 

“When you are older, we will burn down that orphanage,” Vergil informed Nero. “If you have not killed me with your screaming, first.”

He waited until Nero had finished eating. He wiped the boy’s face and fingers clean before sitting back down with him.

“What is your name?” he asked.

Nero grabbed his feet and began to rock himself, looking around the kitchen. Vergil resisted the urge to smack the child right off the table.

He snapped to get Nero’s attention. “Name.” He pointed at Nero. “Name.”

Foolish. He felt so foolish.

Nero cocked his head to the side and pointed at himself. Vergil nodded slowly.

“Newo,” the boy managed. 

“Nero,” Vergil corrected.

Nero looked at him as if to say no shit dad, that’s what I just said. 

“Newo,” he repeated. “Ba’ boy.”

Vergil held a hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just escaped the Demon World this week. I cannot handle your infant trauma alongside my own recovery. Just say ‘Nero’.”

He looked over as Nero grabbed at his hand. He had scrunched up his face in concentration as he pressed his little palm against Vergil’s, as if comparing the size of their hands. 

“Ah?” Nero said, patting his hand against Vergil’s.

Vergil hastily pulled his hand away, feeling uncomfortable suddenly. “Stop that.”

Nero huffed. Always displeased, that boy.

Vergil straightened up. “We’ll both train today. How about that, Nero?”

Nero cocked his head to the side again, then went back to rocking himself and looking around. Vergil picked him up and brought him out to the living room.

“Training” for Nero turned into setting the Yamato across the room and making the boy walk to it. Anytime Nero tried to sit back down and crawl, Vergil put the Yamato away and endured Nero’s tantrum, only taking it back out when Nero stood.

Nero eventually got the message and forced himself to move his chubby little legs to get to the glowing blade. Vergil moved it around the room, making Nero chase it.

The boy would have to sit, whining at his tired legs, but always getting back up eventually to pursue the sword. He tripped a few times, once requiring Vergil to stop the training because Nero had banged his elbow in the fall and was screaming bloody murder. 

Once Nero understood the wound was not fatal (barely even a bruise), he was right back to chasing the sword. He kept at it for a surprisingly long while before sitting and crying, reaching for the sword and refusing to get back up.

Vergil went back to practicing his slashes, which hushed Nero as he watched. He tried to crawl close a few times, but Vergil picked him up and plopped him back on the couch each time.

Vergil sheathed his sword when his arms grew too tired to keep at it. He sat next to Nero on the couch.

“I think we can make this training work,” he informed his son.

Nero had his grabby hands on the scabbard of the Yamato. He paid Vergil no mind.

Vergil still felt way in over his head. But at least this gave him some sense of balance. He could teach the boy basic skills while refining his own rusty skills. It was not a permanent solution to the current predicament, but maybe it would carry them through until Vergil got a grasp on just what the hell he was supposed to be doing as a father.

Chapter Text

It was not much of a schedule, but it got them through.

Vergil took up work in the library, dragging Nero along with him because he didn’t trust anyone else with his son. Whatever Nero had been through at the orphanage, Vergil refused to let it happen again.

Vergil would bring books back every night. He found poetry collections among the shelves and would read them at night, relieved to find that Nero seemed to enjoy it. The child clearly didn’t comprehend the words, but it seemed soothed to sleep by the rhythmic pattern of Vergil’s voice. 

Once Nero was asleep, Vergil took up reading, alternating between his childcare books and the demonology texts. He hardly found time to sleep and often nodded off while reading.

After his time at the library, he’d spend evenings doing his “training” with Nero. Getting the boy to walk was much easier than getting him to talk.

Nero seemed reluctant to speak. Vergil did at least manage to train the boy in a few simple phrases. “Eat” when hungry and “bed” when tired. He tried to teach Nero to say “change” when he needed his diaper changed, but Nero either couldn’t say the word or refused to put in the effort. Vergil settled for “fix”.

Nero, it turned out, could also not pronounce “father”. Vergil was more adamant in teaching him that. The thought of being called anything less formal felt too…too…intimate.

But Nero hit the point of crying in frustration when Vergil kept pressing him. Vergil was forced to abandon the attempt. The boy had to call him something, so he reluctantly began to teach Nero “dad”. 

As Nero tended to clip off the end of words, this quickly became “da” and Vergil quickly lost the fight against this title. 

He did learn, however, that Nero was very vocal when angry or distressed.

Vergil’s exhaustion was not helped by Nero’s adamant terror of the dark. If Vergil forgot and turned the lights off, Nero began a horrendous shriek of “NONONONONO” until the lights were back on. If Vergil did something Nero really hated, Nero was quick to slap him and proclaim, “Ba’ boy!”

Breaking him of that habit seemed to be impossible. Grabbing his arms just caused him to start screaming and fighting back. Verbally lecturing him just caused Nero to put his hands over his ears (and to predictably scream if they were pulled away). 

Vergil had lost his temper badly enough once to slap Nero back - not hard, more of a tap to startle him - and asked him how he liked it. He’d immediately regretted it when the boy cried his little heart out and refused to let Vergil touch him until he was too hungry hours later to avoid it any longer. 

Nero at least seemed to understand that Vergil was his sole caretaker now. As moody and difficult as Nero could be, he’d waddle over to Vergil when he needed something. He also shared the bed with Vergil since Vergil had yet to get Nero his own.

That was a habit he was going to regret letting the boy form. But he was too tired most nights to notice the little body in the bed with him.

Besides, there was something almost comforting about waking up to his son in the room. Vergil found himself suffering from nightmares after his time in the Demon World.

It was embarrassing. It was weak. But he could not fight against his own mind.

He had recurring nightmares of his mother. He’d cry out for her and she’d turn with Vergil in her arms. Vergil would start to relax, only to realize it was Dante in her arms instead. And then the demons would come, and she and Dante would fade into safe obscurity while the demons charged at Vergil, alone and defenseless.

He’d wake with a choked gasp every time. But with the light on, he’d quickly orient himself and find himself looking down at Nero.

Nero always slept with his thumb securely in his mouth and his back pressed to whatever part of Vergil’s body was closest when Vergil laid down. Whether the boy liked the knowledge he was not alone in the room, or whether he just liked the warmth of another body, Vergil had no idea. He stopped trying to scoot away after the first couple of nights. 

But Nero was much cuter when he was asleep. The problem with encouraging the child to walk was that Nero became an absolute nightmare to deal with.

Vergil felt like he spent almost all his free time chasing Nero. Nero was quick to grab anything that wasn’t bolted to the damn floor and take off with it. He was also exceeding curious and stupidly brave. When he wanted to examine something, he did so by putting his hands on it, regardless of if it was a pillow on the couch or the stove preheated to 450 degrees. Vergil was endlessly snatching Nero away from danger just in time. He was often rewarded for his protective efforts with tiny fists to the chest and head-splitting upset wailing.

Their training at least gave Nero structure. He knew now to expect some kind of lesson in the evening, though he got fussy if it was a speech lesson. He also knew that Vergil would read poetry to him every night, and Vergil was surprised to find that that seemed to be the part Nero looked forward to the most. Some nights Nero would even grab Vergil’s hand and drag him to the bedroom, grabbing a book and pushing it into his hands. Nero had learned the difference between Vergil’s research pile and his poetry pile.

They were finishing up a walking training session now. Nero sat down, rubbing his legs with his typical overdramatic whine.

Vergil checked the time, realizing it was later than usual. “Bed, Nero.”

He said it like Nero had a sleep structure. It was almost laughable. 

Nero huffed as he stood back up. He went over to Vergil, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bedroom.

Nero pushed Vergil at the bed - the kid wasn’t subtle - and grabbed a poetry book. He set it on Vergil’s lap and struggled to climb up onto the bed.

Vergil picked him up and set him down on the bed. Nero seemed to have no problem climbing off it, but climbing on was a challenge. 

“Alright, Nero,” Vergil said, setting the book down. “I want to get a drink first.”

He started to get up, but Nero grabbed his shirt. “No! Da, book! Book!”

Well, that was a new word. Vergil sighed and sat back down.

“Yes, book,” he said. He’d already begun to abandon adult speech in his most exhausted moments. He opened the book to a random poem. “Poetry book, Nero.”

“Book,” Nero parroted. 

Close enough. Vergil would care after he went a night with more than three hours of sleep.

“I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow/I feel my fate in what I cannot fear/I learn by going where I have to go,” Vergil began to read.

He realized Nero was staring at the book in concentration. He looked up at Vergil, then pointed to the book.

“Da, book?” he said.

Vergil wished he could thank his own parents for not killing him and Dante in infancy. He could not imagine trying to puzzle out two babies’ lackluster vocabulary at once. 

“Yes, Nero, this is a book. Do you want me to read it or not?” he said impatiently.

Nero put his finger on a random line of words. “Ah?”

He is the future of the Sparda bloodline, and he conveys his thoughts by pointing randomly and making noises. All the power in the world could not have prepared me for this torture.

Vergil pushed Nero’s hand away. “Stop that. Either you want me to read or you don’t.” He opened his mouth to start the poem back up, but Nero slapped his finger right back on the page.

“Ah!” Nero said.

“Nero, stop!” Vergil said, roughly pushing Nero’s hand off. He snapped the book shut. “We’re done.”

“No!” Nero wailed, trying to pry the book back from Vergil to open it.

“Stop it!” Vergil said.

“Ba’ boy!” Nero said, smacking Vergil.

Vergil waited until Nero tugged at the book once more, released it, and watched the little idiot fall back from the force of his own pull and smack himself in the face with the book. 

Vergil got about two seconds of admittedly petty satisfaction before Nero scrunched up his face and began to cry. He had a noticeable redmark on his forehead from where the book had hit him hardest. He pressed his free hand to it, the book secured in his other hand.

Vergil stood up. “You can cry yourself to sleep, you ungrateful brat.”

He hadn’t stepped away before he felt Nero grab a tiny fistful of his shirt. “No!”

“Nero!” Vergil snapped, spinning around, towering over Nero angrily.

Nero cringed back, his loud sobs turning into quiet whimpers as he shielded himself. Vergil rubbed his temples.

Patience. He had prided himself on his concentration before his trip to the Demon World; it was close enough to patience that he thought he could manage. For all his anger and exhaustion, he did not mean to frighten the child.

“Bed, Nero,” he said in the calmest voice he could manage. 

Nero sniffled and hiccuped, more tears spilling over onto his cheeks. He hesitantly opened the book. “Book?”

“No,” Vergil said.

Nero started to cry harder. He pressed his finger hopelessly to the page. “Ah! Da, book! Ah!” He zig-zagged his finger across the page, then cried harder when Vergil didn’t seem to understand. He closed the book and threw it at Vergil’s head.

Vergil snatched it out of the air. “And what, exactly, did that accomplish?”

“Book!” Nero sobbed. “Newo- book!” He pointed at it. 

Vergil was too tired for this. He kicked the blanket back and gestured for Nero to get under it.

Nero reluctantly did so. He kept staring at the book, but cried more as Vergil walked out of the room with it.

Vergil waited until Nero inevitably cried himself to sleep. He sat on the couch with the poetry book, flipping it open and skimming through the poems inside. He had no idea what Nero wanted from him with the book.

It didn’t matter. He dragged himself off the couch to go clean the kitchen, which seemed to be perpetually filthy with a child in the house. Nero had upended a bag of flour with his infamous grabby hands earlier. Vergil resigned himself to cleaning that up, trying to push down the anger he felt at having fallen so far.

He regretted a lot of things in his life. At the top of the list currently was having sex with that damn woman.

Fatherhood was a curse Vergil couldn’t escape.

***

The next day, Nero was mad at him. 

He was fussier than usual, throwing tantrums and refusing to let Vergil near him except to give him food. When Vergil tried to settle him down to train for the night, Nero sat on the ground and refused to stand or speak. He tried to bite Vergil when Vergil tried to force him to stand up, slapping him twice when Vergil persisted in his attempts.

Vergil finally quit. Rather than give the boy the satisfaction of watching him train with the Yamato, he scooped Nero up, ignoring his screams and struggles.

He set him on the bed and started to head out. He heard a thump and spun, ready to yell at Nero for keeping at this ridiculous behavior.

But Nero was reaching for the poetry book. He pulled it down, careful of his face, and held it out to Vergil. He refused to meet Vergil’s eyes.

“No,” Vergil nearly snarled. He was not in the mood after how Nero had been acting all day.

Tears gathered in Nero’s eyes. “Book?”

“Absolutely not. You’ve been terrible all day, you brat,” Vergil said.

Nero was starting to cry again. “Book?” 

Vergil wanted to stand firm, but his current headache wouldn’t survive another tantrum. He snatched the book and roughly set Nero back on the bed. He flipped the book up to the poem from last night.

Nero leaned forward and put his finger on the page, blocking Vergil’s view of the words. Vergil yanked Nero’s hand away and snapped the book shut angrily.

Nero cringed back, the tears reappearing. He pointed at himself. “Brat?” he whimpered. “Ba’ boy?”

“Yes!” Vergil snapped.

Nero put his face in his hands, hiccuping as he tried to keep his sobs in. He looked so pathetic, Vergil actually felt bad at the sight.

“Nero,” he said. He put his hand on the boy’s back, and Nero flinched. “Nero, look at me.”

Nero tentatively obeyed. Vergil opened the book and set it down in front of Nero.

“Book,” Nero said hopelessly, putting his finger back on the page. “Da, book.” He struggled, crying harder at his lack of communication. “Book-” He repeatedly stabbed his finger at the page. “Ah! Book…Da talk! Da talk book!”

“I read it,” Vergil said. He was tempted to shake Nero until whatever he wanted to say fell out. From his reading, he was certain Nero should’ve had a better vocabulary than this at his age. 

Nero pointed at his chest. “Book? Talk?”

“You…want to read the book?” Vergil said.

“Ah!” Nero grabbed Vergil’s arm, pointing at the book desperately. 

Was that it? Nero was just upset because he wanted to read the book and couldn’t? Could it really be so simple?

Vergil picked the book up. He took Nero’s hand, guiding his finger along the words.

“I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow/I feel my fate in what I cannot fear/I learn by going where I have to go,” Vergil began again, this time guiding Nero’s finger along each word as he read it.

Nero did not cry or interrupt or even get fussy. He let Vergil drag his finger along the entire poem, and then another.

He was entirely content, almost pleased. It was so simple.

Vergil felt like the one who could cry. He could not comprehend how this child made simple desires seem so complicated and unobtainable. He could not comprehend how he was supposed to figure out what the child wanted from him when he made everything so convoluted with his lack of vocabulary.

All the kid wanted was to follow along with the words. That was it. That’s what last night’s tantrum and today’s nightmarish behavior had been for. 

Nero yawned. Vergil released his hand, but Nero shook his head and pressed his hand back against Vergil’s.

“Book?” he said, looking up at Vergil. 

“One more,” Vergil said, taking Nero’s hand again.

Reading poetry like this with Nero was almost peaceful. Vergil felt so confused over everything. 

When they finished that poem, Nero was still awake enough. So Vergil read through another.

He glanced at Nero at one point and realized the boy had a little smile on his face. He had his head tilted so his ear was to Vergil, but his eyes were focused on the way Vergil moved his finger along the words. It was the calmest and happiest Vergil had seen Nero since taking him from the orphanage. 

He felt- hope. Yes, that was it. He actually felt hope.

Just last night, he thought of Nero as a curse. But right now, in this moment, he felt like maybe, just maybe, they could get through this together. Nero would not be a small boy barely capable of speaking forever. He would grow and learn and things would get easier when they could actually communicate. Vergil just had to get him to that point. He had to keep working with Nero.

In the end, Nero fell asleep against Vergil’s side, limp hand still in Vergil’s. Vergil set Nero’s hand down and closed the book. 

He tentatively reached up and brushed a few locks of Nero’s hair off his forehead. Nero didn’t even stir at the contact.

Children were difficult. Vergil thought of all the times his own mother had been near tears because of how he and Dante had been behaving towards each other. They’d loved their mother, but they had not often considered her feelings because they were children and children were not that selfless.

And children could be emotional. Vergil pressed his lips together tightly at the memories of his own incessant crying because his mother was upset with him. He thought of Dante crying when their father raised his voice at them. 

Kids cried over stupid things and fought over stupid things. They threw tantrums. They picked fights. They got themselves into trouble because they didn’t understand consequences. They did not consider their parents’ feelings.

“Perhaps it is not the demon in you. Perhaps it is the human in you,” Vergil said, brushing back Nero’s hair again. He felt a spike of shame for his own behavior. He was supposed to be the mature adult, yet he’d frightened Nero and even pulled that cheap trick with the book the previous night.

He had to do better. Be better. Nero had no one else to teach him. Vergil had to pull himself together for Nero. 

This was a challenge. But Vergil was not a quitter, and he would rise to it.

Chapter Text

Rising to the challenge was tougher than Vergil had imagined it would be.

He began to try and drill Nero on vocabulary more frequently, but Nero threw a tantrum whenever his lessons were focused on speech. Vergil couldn’t understand Nero’s resistance to talking, and decided to blame it on the orphanage for lack of another target to level his anger at.

Instead, Vergil tried to talk more often to Nero, hoping Nero would pick up on words. He read with Nero every night, dragging his fingers along the words. It was the only time Nero was ever truly calm, and Vergil began to look forward to those times because they gave his eternal headaches a respite. 

Vergil tried to keep the peace for his sanity’s sake. When Nero wanted something but couldn’t manage to communicate what that was, Vergil would offer to read to him. This didn’t always work, but it worked enough to keep him from dumping Nero back at the orphanage out of sheer frustration. 

Still, being trapped between the library and the house, always with Nero, was starting to wear on Vergil. He was hardly sleeping. He wasn’t recovering from his injuries quickly because he wasn’t resting. He wasn’t finding time to properly keep up his own training. His patience seemed to forever be hanging by a thread. 

He was unsurprised when he woke up that morning with a fever. He laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he assessed his own body.

Everything was sore and his head was pounding more than usual. His stomach was off, but he wasn’t nauseous. He felt his injuries more prominently than usual. He was cold despite the blanket and recent spike of warm weather. Exhaustion made his body sink into the mattress with its force. His mind felt impossibly sluggish. 

Nero was still asleep, at least. His back was pressed to Vergil’s side, thumb in his mouth like always. Vergil ran his fingers along Nero’s head, but his skin felt cool to the touch. 

Vergil tried to get back to sleep, but Nero woke up before long, sitting up and stretching. He rubbed at his eyes and stared expectantly at Vergil.

“Eat,” he said, voice gruff from sleep. 

“Is that all you do?” Vergil asked, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Eat and cry and soil yourself?”

“Eat,” Nero repeated, opening his mouth and pointing into it.

Vergil forced himself to sit up. The world spun lazily for a moment before settling into place. Wonderful.

He scooped Nero up. Normally he made the boy walk to the kitchen himself, but Vergil had no energy for that argument today, so he carried Nero and set him in a chair. He’d yet to get a highchair, but had at least gotten a hunk of wood that acted as a booster seat that allowed Nero to mostly reach his food on the table.

Vergil got food ready for Nero, giving it to him. Nero immediately dug in and began to make a mess. Vergil decided it was a mess that could wait until tomorrow to be cleaned.

He made himself some coffee in a desperate attempt to survive the morning. He didn’t have to go to the library today; he had no idea how he was supposed to handle Nero all day when he was sick.

Sure enough, as soon as Nero had eaten, he looked expectantly to Vergil, as if to say, “Entertain me already, dad”. 

“Nero,” Vergil said. “I do not feel well today. Play by yourself while I rest.”

Nero gave absolutely no indication that he understood any of that aside from his name. Vergil wondered why he even bothered.

He picked Nero up and carried him to the living room, dumping him on the floor. Vergil laid on the couch, getting an arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

Less than a minute later, Nero had managed to knock over Vergil’s coffee mug onto the floor. Vergil was forced to get up and clean it before it could stain. He’d no sooner finished that then Nero decided he was going to soil his diaper and cry instead of use his words.

Vergil changed him and set him in the living room. He realized he had no actual toys for Nero to play with.

“Before I knew about you, I actually considered myself the smart one in the family,” Vergil informed Nero. “Now I understand there are different types of knowledge, and I am an imbecile in knowledge on childcare.”

Nero popped his thumb in his mouth.

Vergil grabbed a couple books and tossed them on the floor with Nero. “There. Make your own fun.”

He dropped back on the couch and tried to get comfortable. He had yet to find a good position before Nero was at the edge of the couch, arms raised.

Vergil pulled him onto the couch. Nero sat next to him and tugged at Vergil’s shirt, trying to peek under it to see if the Yamato was there.

“Stop that,” Vergil said, swatting his hands away. “I don’t have it out here. It’s locked up where you can’t kill yourself with it.”

“Da?” Nero said, pointing at Vergil’s waist.

“I don’t have the Yamato, Nero,” Vergil said. He pointed at himself. “Bed.”

Nero huffed. Vergil resisted the urge to kick him off the couch.

“Da,” Nero said, grabbing Vergil’s arm. “Book?” He pointed at the books.

“Bed,” Vergil repeated, yanking his arm away. “Dad is tired, Nero.”

“No bed,” Nero said, pointing at the window as if to prove it was still daytime. Like the kid didn’t pass out throughout the day when his body decided it was nap time. 

“I’m sick, Nero,” Vergil said, clinging to his patience. He took Nero’s hand and pressed it to his feverishly hot forehead. “Sick.”

Nero pulled his hand away as if startled by the sudden heat. He furrowed his brow, then tentatively touched his hand back to Vergil’s forehead. He dragged it down to Vergil’s cheek.

“Sick,” Vergil said.

“Sick?” Nero frowned.

“Sick,” Vergil confirmed. “I don’t feel good. I feel bad.”

“Ba’ boy?” Nero said, pulling his hand away and looking afraid, pointing at himself.

“Wha- No.” Vergil ran a hand over his eyes. “No, Nero. You’re not a bad boy.”

When had his life become this? He was certain his father would be happy to know the Sparda line was continuing. He was also certain his father would not be happy to find out it was because Vergil accidentally fathered a child in his teenage years and then took charge of him after key developmental stages. 

The lack of communication was grueling to someone like Vergil who had such a love for words. That his own son did not even understand what it meant to be sick was- well, it was exhausting. Everything was exhausting lately. 

Nero climbed down off the couch, head down. Vergil reached out and caught his arm.

“Nero, you’re not being a bad boy,” he said, because the last thing he needed was Nero crying right now.

Nero sniffled, but he had no tears in his eyes yet. “No?”

“No,” Vergil said, releasing him. “Go play. I’m going to sleep for a little.”

“A little” turned out to be Vergil sleeping on and off for several hours. He woke every time Nero was too loud, internally groaned at the inevitable mess he’d have to clean, and then dozed back off. He doubted he actually snatched more than an extra hour or so of sleep before Nero was back at the couch.

He held his arms out. Vergil lifted him up, unsurprised to find Nero was covered in crumbs. He must’ve gotten into the food pantry.

Rather than torment Vergil, Nero just laid down and scooted back until his back touched Vergil’s chest. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, then pulled it out to look over his shoulder at Vergil.

“Da bed? Nero bed?” he said.

His house-destroying adventures must’ve tired him out. Vergil had no desire to see how bad the house looked for Nero to already be ready for a nap.

“Yes. Bed,” Vergil said.

Nero looked around and huffed. Vergil felt dread stirring in his gut; he had no energy to handle one of Nero’s tantrums.

But then Nero just cuddled closer to Vergil. He grabbed Vergil’s arm and draped it over himself, presumably for warmth. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes.

Vergil stared at him. Nero had never pulled Vergil’s arm over him. Normally Vergil was too tired to acknowledge Nero’s presence against him. 

Vergil hesitated. He thought of his mother, holding him close and stroking his hair after a nightmare, kissing his head and whispering reassurances to him. Her touch had always been so gentle and comforting.

He knew he could not manage that. His hands were trained to destroy, not nurture. 

But he had taken such comfort from his mother’s embrace. Being without it for so long had hurt worse than he’d ever been willing to acknowledge.

He awkwardly adjusted his arm so that he was holding Nero against his chest. It was not a natural position for him, nor a comfortable one. But Nero only nuzzled his head back against Vergil’s shoulder and slept away.

Nero was not a very affectionate child. Then again, Vergil wasn’t exactly a very affectionate father. 

Maybe he could…try? 

He didn’t understand Nero. He didn’t know how to be a parent. 

But Nero didn’t ask to be born. Accident or not, he was Vergil’s responsibility. Maybe he could be more than a reluctant duty, though. 

Vergil had been alone for so long. Clearly, so had Nero.

“Perhaps we can both try a little harder,” Vergil said quietly. He decided to blame his sentimentality on his fever. He stroked his free hand along Nero’s hair and Nero leaned into the touch, encouraging Vergil to keep at it. 

He fell asleep holding his son to himself and stroking his hair. It was not lost on him how easily Nero slept in his arms.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, being sick improved their relationship.

Vergil was far worse the next day. He found himself too sick to get out of bed, the fever making him dangerously dizzy when he tried to stand. 

“Eat,” Nero said, pointing in his mouth.

“Okay,” Vergil muttered. “Give me a minute, Nero.”

“A minute” turned into Vergil falling asleep while trying to muster the energy to get up. He woke sometime later as Nero shook him, lip wobbling in a way that preceded a hunger tantrum.

“Eat,” he whined.

Vergil pushed Nero off himself and slowly sat up. He was still dizzy, but he had to get Nero food and he had to get himself water. He needed to at least stay hydrated. 

Getting up was a chore, but he managed. He wobbled almost as badly as Nero as he made his way to the kitchen. 

Nero followed, fidgeting, looking on the edge of a tantrum if he didn’t eat soon. Vergil couldn’t even find any anger in his wrecked body when he saw the mess Nero had made yesterday. The kid must’ve eventually eaten his way through the remainder of a box of cereal, but to get to it, he’d tossed aside bags of sugar and flour, a bag of uncooked rice, and a box of pasta. The contents of each were strewn along the floor.

“Later,” Vergil told himself. He dug out food for Nero and let the kid eat right on the floor. He grabbed several water bottles for himself and took out a loaf of bread, setting it within Nero’s reach in case he got hungry later. With that settled, he trudged back to the bed and collapsed on it

He doubted he had to worry about Nero catching his illness. More likely than not, his body was just overworked from all the stress and trying to function with his still-healing injuries. 

He slept on and off, woken occasionally by Nero. He thought Nero might’ve been trying to talk to him a few times, but he was too out of it to focus on any words and lost consciousness before long.

He finally woke long enough to actually sit up and look around. Nero was sitting in the doorway, tear streaks on his face. It was starting to get dark out. The kid had been on his own all day.

“Nero?” Vergil mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

Nero sniffled. He was sitting in an awkward position.

“Nero, what’s wrong?” Vergil asked.

“Newo ba’ boy,” Nero said, his voice choked with tears. 

“What’d you do?” Vergil said, flopping back against the pillows. He had no strength to care what Nero had done, honestly. 

“Newo ba’ boy,” he repeated, and Vergil realized his tears were coming faster but he was still quiet. 

“Look, whatever mess you made, I’ll clean it, and whatever you broke, we’ll fix it or throw it o-” Fix. 

Diaper. 

Nero had been wearing the same diaper since last night.

Vergil pressed his hands over his face. He thought of Nero’s bad rash.

He got up, waited til the world stopped spinning, and made his way over to Nero, kneeling before him. It didn’t take more than a mild sniff to realize the problem.

“Okay, Nero,” Vergil said.

He knew what it was like to have his dignity stripped away, especially recently. He could not imagine how uncomfortable and ashamed Nero had felt sitting in his own soiled diaper all day. 

“Come here. Fix,” Vergil said, holding his hand out.

“Da fix?” he whimpered.

“Yes,” Vergil said.

Nero took his hand. Vergil picked him up and stayed close to the wall as he made his way to the bathroom, afraid he’d fall over with Nero in his arms.

He made it to the bathroom without incident. When he changed Nero’s diaper, he realized how bad the situation was. Nero must’ve gotten into the pantry and eaten something that didn’t sit well with his stomach. Considering Vergil hadn’t fed him since breakfast, he was unsurprised at that. 

I left my son, who is not even two yet, to fend for himself all day. I made him sit in his own filth all day. I was too weak to care for my child when he is still young enough to almost entirely depend on me.

He abandoned the diaper change and stripped off Nero’s clothes, filling the tub with warm water. He set Nero in it when it was ready, thoroughly washing the boy and fighting his own tiredness as he worked. The simple task left him feeling ready to sleep for days.

But he managed to get Nero cleaned. He put on a fresh diaper and clean clothes, then carried Nero to the bedroom with him. He uncapped a water bottle and tipped it into Nero’s mouth, making him drink some.

“Are you sick?” Vergil asked.

Nero rubbed his eyes, then reached a hand out to Vergil’s head. He could only reach Vergil’s cheek.

“Sick,” he said to Vergil.

“Yes, I am sick,” Vergil said, pulling Nero’s hand away. He placed his hand on Nero’s stomach. “Okay?”

Nero nodded. Vergil stared at him. Nero screamed and threw tantrums so often. But Vergil had failed to feed him or change his dirty diaper, and Nero just fell silent and assumed it was punishment for being bad.

“Nero, I’m sorry,” Vergil said, gathering the boy into his lap. “You’re not a bad boy. I’m sorry I didn’t change your diaper earlier.”

Nero buried his face in Vergil’s shirt and cried silently. Vergil awkwardly rubbed his back, then remembered yesterday. He brought his hand up and lightly stroked Nero’s hair, watching Nero’s shoulders relax at the contact.

“Nero, book?” Vergil said, feeling as though he needed to make amends for his earlier failure.

Nero rubbed his tears away and nodded. He climbed off the bed and grabbed a book, coming back over. Vergil picked him up and set Nero back in his lap, adjusting the pillow so he could lean back against the headboard.

He opened the book and took Nero’s finger, guiding it along the words as he read. He read until the words began to blur, then fell asleep.

When he woke up, Nero was curled up against his chest, thumb in his mouth. Vergil stroked his hair before falling back to sleep.

When he woke up again, Nero was sitting next to him, flipping through the pages of the book. Nero noticed he was awake and smiled, pointing eagerly to a page.

“Book! Da, book!” he said. “Ah!”

Vergil looked over and realized there was an illustration on a page next to one of the poems. Nero concentrated and traced his little finger along the lines of the illustration.

“Picture,” Vergil explained.

Nero set the book in Vergil’s lap and set his finger on one of the lines of poetry. He dragged his finger along the text, then beamed a smile up at Vergil.

“Newo book!” he said proudly.

It’s just the fever. The fever is messing with my mind. I am delirious.

He told himself that as he reached out and brushed his fingers through Nero’s hair. “Yes, Nero. You’re learning how to read a book.”

“Da book,” Nero said, pointing at Vergil. He pointed at himself. “Newo book. Newo Da!”

Just the fever. Just the fever.

“Yes,” Vergil said, slowly, quietly. “Yes, you’re like dad, Nero.”

Nero was grinning up at him, his eyes bright. For all the issues he had caused Vergil so far, for all the stress he’d brought to Vergil’s life, for all the exhaustion he’d caused…

Vergil had the urge to hug Nero. Just like his mother used to hug him when he was Nero’s age. 

He resisted the urge, and instead settled for putting an arm around Nero’s shoulders. He felt suddenly frightened at his own feelings.

He thought of his poetry book, lost somewhere in his destroyed old home. It’d been the only thing that was truly his, and his alone. He’d cherished it, feeling a swell of pride and affection when he saw his name written so carefully on the book. It was his, no one else’s.

Nero was his. Nero had no other father; just Vergil. 

But Vergil had to fight Dante for all his belongings. In the end, he won just that poetry book for himself, and he had cared for it so carefully. In the end, he still lost it.

If he cared for Nero, if he cherished Nero, if he…loved…Nero-

Wouldn’t he eventually lose Nero, just as he’d lost everything else in his life?

“Da?”

He looked down at Nero. Nero had cocked his head to the side curiously. He reached up and pressed his hand to Vergil’s feverishly warm face.

Vergil cleared his throat, but found he had no words to say. Instead, he hauled Nero onto his lap and hugged his son, and he once more blamed the fever for the sudden frantic need to do so. 

Nero seemed startled, unfamiliar with that form of physical contact. It hurt Vergil to realize just how deprived of love and affection his son had been.

All this time, he’d been reluctant to view his son as more than a duty. But he’d been so destroyed when his mother did not come for him that awful day. How could he leave his son desperate for a parent’s love?

Vergil didn’t know if he was truly capable of love anymore. He doubted he could change to an affectionate person overnight.

But a hug here and there was a way to start, for both of them. Vergil looked down at Nero, then put his arms around him and hugged him again.

“Hug,” he said. 

Nero looked confused. Vergil repeated the word and motion. He did it several more times before Nero seemed to pick up on the fact that he was supposed to reciprocate.

“Hug?” Nero said.

“Yes, Nero. Yes. Hug,” Vergil said.

Nero still seemed a bit baffled by the concept. Vergil figured he’d learn eventually.

He rested back against his pillow, letting Nero settle on his chest again. “Bed, Nero. I need to sleep.”

Nero had grabbed the book again, more focused on that than his ill father. Vergil just put his arm around Nero and drifted back off to sleep.

And the next time Nero woke him for a diaper change, Vergil got right up despite how sick he felt. But for all his faults, he resolved himself to be more attentive to Nero. His son deserved better than the childhood Vergil had suffered himself. He was the only one who could give Nero a better life. Vergil did not like failure when he had a goal, so he tended to Nero despite his own state, and slipped in a few more practices on the concept of hugging while he was too sick and worn down to be self-conscious about it.

Chapter Text

Vergil got worse before he got better, and caring for Nero became a nearly unbearable challenge. But Vergil pushed through it and managed.

Nero grew grumpy over Vergil’s state, but the demonic baby also had a heart buried in his chest somewhere. When a tantrum resulted in Vergil getting up so fast to stop Nero from knocking a chair on himself, Vergil ended up getting sick from the sudden wave of dizziness that washed over him.

On his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Nero had tentatively waddled over to him. Nero may not understand what the word “sick” meant, but he’d thrown up enough to know it was an unpleasant sensation.

“Da,” Nero had said, poking Vergil’s arm. Vergil had been ready to snap at Nero to go away, until Nero held his arms out. “Hug?”

So they hugged and Vergil cleaned up his mess and took Nero back to the bed with him. Nero was unfamiliar with cuddling and physical affection, but he seemed to enjoy nestling into Vergil’s side with a book in hand, dragging his finger along the words he couldn’t read.

After two days, Vergil finally started to feel well enough to actually get up and properly - or as properly as he knew how to - care for Nero. Nero was pleased to get a real breakfast that morning.

Vergil found something light to eat. He’d have to take them shopping. Normally, the idea just added another layer of exhaustion, but today he was looking forward to getting fresh air after being cooped up for so long. 

“Nero, do you want to go out today?” he asked.

Nero picked his head up. Vergil pointed at the window.

“Outside,” he said.

Nero nodded and resumed eating happily. Vergil looked around at the absolute disastrous state of the kitchen, decided it could wait until tonight, and leaned against a part of the counter that miraculously wasn’t sticky. 

When Nero finished eating, Vergil bathed him. Then he took a quick shower, glad to wash off the sweat he’d been drenched in. He still had a fever and wasn’t feeling his usual self, but if he could successfully move around, he wasn’t going to spend another day in bed.

He dressed himself and Nero and packed some diapers, food, and water bottles in a bag. He grabbed the Yamato and scooped Nero into his arms, and gratefully left the house.

The fresh air was incredible. He paused for a moment to close his eyes and just breathe it in.

He’d tried to assume the Demon World as his home, but it wasn’t, not really. This world wasn’t truly home for him either, but at least the air wasn’t choking to breathe.

“Da,” Nero said, shaking Vergil’s shoulder.

“I know. I’m going,” Vergil said, opening his eyes and beginning to walk.

It was nice out and the streets were fairly busy today. Vergil did not want to deal with so many people. His skin crawled at the sight of the crowds. He took side streets until they were out of the city, heading towards the forest.

He wouldn’t go in too far. He just needed to be out of the house but away from people for a little.

He found a quiet spot and set Nero and the bag down. Nero immediately took off, run-waddling after a butterfly with his hands outstretched to catch it. 

Vergil was unsurprised when Nero tripped on the unsteady terrain and hit the ground hard. Nero scrunched up his face, tears in his eyes.

Vergil went over and picked him up, setting him back on his feet. “You’re alright. Hug, Nero?”

Nero sniffled and held his arms out to Vergil. Vergil hugged him, well enough to feel awkward about it again but trying to push through that. How long had he been on his own as a child? Why should Nero be deprived of the physical affection Vergil had craved in his own youth?

The tears were gone almost instantly when the butterfly floated past again, and Nero was back off and running for it. Apparently he was not going to learn his lesson easily.

“Stubborn,” Vergil said, standing up. He found a tree stump to sit on and just enjoyed the fresh air as Nero let out whines of displeasure at the fleeing butterfly.

He looked over a few minutes later as Nero approached. Nero had a stick in his hand and a grin on his face.

“Da!” he said, holding it up.

“What, Nero?” Vergil said.

Nero frowned. Then he swung the stick, nearly hitting Vergil in the face. “Ah!”

Vergil swatted the stick away. “Nero, don’t swing that at me. Stop that.”

Nero whined, scowling at Vergil. He angrily pointed at the Yamato, then swung his stick again.

“Da!” he said, pointing at himself.

He’s trying to be like me. He wants to be like me.

The thought made Vergil’s chest ache. No one had ever wanted to be like Vergil before; Dante had always been the favorite.

“Show me again, Nero,” he said.

Nero let out a happy squeal and swung the stick. He swung it again, so hard he almost knocked himself over. Vergil caught his arm and righted him.

“Da,” Nero said, pointing his stick at the Yamato.

Vergil stood up and unsheathed his sword. Nero’s eyes lit up at the sight of the blade and he eagerly bounced up and down, swinging his stick at it.

Vergil swung the Yamato at the nearest tree, carving quick lines into it. Nero let out a happy squeal and copied with his stick.

Vergil lifted Nero into his arms, taking one of Nero’s hands and placing it on the hilt of the Yamato. Nero’s fingers were too small to fully wrap around it, but he gripped it as best he could. Vergil held Nero’s hand there as he slashed the tree again, and Nero let out another overjoyed squeal.

Nero dropped his stick and pointed at the tree. “Da!”

Vergil knelt and picked up the stick, handing it back to Nero. “Never drop your weapon, Nero.”

Still, he held Nero’s hand to the hilt and continued to slash at the tree, carving patterns in the wood together. Nero loved it, laughing and exclaiming, happier than Vergil had ever seen the child.

When he’s older, I will properly train him how to use a sword. Perhaps someday I will pass the Yamato to him, as my father passed it to me.

It was strange for Vergil to think about giving his sword to anyone. But he could already tell Nero would respect the blade. It would not be such a bad thing to give the Yamato to a worthy successor, carrying on the will of Sparda. 

Not for a long time, though. Vergil was nowhere near ready to part with his sword. 

Instead, they slashed together with the sword. Vergil’s still-feverish body grew tired quickly, but he forced himself to keep at it. If Nero could endure the walking training, Vergil could endure some light sword work.

Later, he’d blame it on a combination of the fever and Nero’s distracting joy. Whatever the true cause was, he did not see the attack coming until it was upon them.

Nero’s laughter disguised whatever footsteps there may have been. All Vergil knew was the quick glimpse of a blade as he turned to look at Nero’s expression once more.

He spun fast, because the blade was aimed right at Nero. Instead, it struck the tree, Nero yelling out in displeasure.

The scarecrow demons lumbered at them, starting to surround them. Vergil curled Nero into his chest as the boy whimpered at the sight.

“Da,” Nero whispered, grabbing fistfuls of Vergil’s shirt. 

Vergil lifted the Yamato. “It’s okay, Nero. They are weak compared to me. I will protect you.”

He spoke with more confidence than he felt. Sure, they might’ve been weaker than him at one point. But these days, he was still recovering from his time in the Demon World, he was exhausted from caring for Nero, and he was still weak from his fever. Plus, messing about with the Yamato with Nero had only served to further tire him out.

He slashed out at the first demon, testing his own speed and strength. The results were not favorable.

He moved sluggishly compared to his old speed. His slash was quick and fairly precise, but already his arm strained at the effort, and there wasn’t as much effort behind the blow as usual.

Having Nero in his arm didn’t make it any easier. He had to watch how he moved so he didn’t expose the child to an attack, and it severely limited the force behind his attacks. That, and Nero’s soft, frightened crying was distracting.

But this child was his to protect. He doubted these demons were hunting him; he recalled them populating the area before. They’d probably been drawn by the sound of Nero’s laughter.

Vergil burst into action, hoping desperately that his speed, pathetic as it was now, would still be enough to give him an advantage. If he could thin the numbers right at the start, he’d stand a better chance. In a battle of endurance, he’d lose in his current state. He had to make quick work of these demons.

The demons didn’t move steadily, which was both a blessing and a curse. It made it hard for Vergil’s feverish brain to follow their movements and aim properly, but it also made it easier to dodge their clumsy attacks.

Vergil tuned out Nero’s crying and concentrated only on the demons, lashing out with the Yamato and trying to take down as many as he could with the burst of energy he’d mustered. The demons got a few hits in on him, but he managed to take out three before one got a decent shot in.

It cut his leg, sending Vergil stumbling. With no free hand to catch himself, he was forced to let himself fall on his shoulder, rolling with the momentum of the fall to avoid another attack. Nero let out a frightened yelp, clinging tighter to Vergil. Banged up a little in a fall was better than sliced to pieces by demons, though.

Vergil pushed back to his feet and lunged, taking out a forth demon. His leg injury was worse than he’d realized and sent him stumbling forward, another blow striking him in the back and sending him back to the ground. He cradled Nero to his chest as he fell, trying to protect the boy’s head and neck.

He couldn’t risk setting Nero down. Nero was too slow to run to a hiding spot before a demon would spot him. And there was always the chance he’d freeze in terror.

Vergil forced himself back up and into the fight. He could not fail here. If he did, his son would be killed.

He took out two more demons, his attacks slipping from concentrated and precise to sloppy and desperate. He tried to back away so he could take a few seconds to rebalance his approach, but the demons chased him, slashing wildly.

Several more blows caught him, two with their blades. Vergil could feel the blood soaking his shirt where an attack had caught him in the side. He needed to get out of here, even if he had to run like a coward. He was losing too much blood. His vision was growing blurry. His sick body was not recovered enough to take on these numbers.

And he had believed he was worthy of Sparda’s power. Pathetic. Foolish.

A demon lashed out and Vergil was not quick enough to get away. It nicked his arm, and for a moment, he thought he got lucky.

Then Nero screamed in pain, thrashing his arms against Vergil. Vergil looked down and realized the attack had taken a nasty chunk out of Nero’s arm.

I failed him. I was supposed to protect him, and I failed. My mother failed me, and I grew up to fail my own son.

No, no, no. It was a bad wound, but not fatal. Vergil had to get away and stop the bleeding. A scar was better than death.

Vergil slashed relentlessly at the demon that had attacked Nero, each attack more brutal than the last. These demons would not take his son from him. He wouldn’t let them. He’d fought so hard to become powerful; it was time to use that power.

A demon slashed Vergil across the back and he nearly fell again. His vision was growing dark. He was going to pass out.

“Nero,” he said, holding the screaming boy tighter.

If he lost consciousness, Nero would die. They would both die here. 

Vergil lifted the Yamato.

He summoned every ounce of strength left in him. He could think of one way, just one desperate way, to survive this and hoped his gamble did not fail him. His options were all bad, but this last choice was not a certain death for his son.

Likely, it was a certain death for Vergil. But at least Nero would survive.

He tore open a portal as the demons began to rush him again. He clutched Nero and staggered through the portal, feeling a final attack catch him in the shoulder.

He stepped out, looking at the dim, dirty location he’d reached. He heard the startled, vulgar exclamation and then the sound of guns being drawn.

“Vergil?!”

Vergil clutched Yamato in one hand and Nero in the other. He lifted his head just enough to see Dante preparing to shoot him.

And then he took the pleasure from Dante by collapsing into darkness.

Chapter Text

Vergil did not know how long he was out for, but he doubted it was long. When he cracked his eyes open, his body screamed with pain.

“Dammit- shit- fuck-”

Dante.

Vergil instinctively tightened his hold on the Yamato, but had no strength to lift it. Dante was kneeling beside him, blurry in Vergil’s vision. 

And then Vergil realized his body was not the only thing screaming.

Nero’s panicked, pained wails were muffled by Vergil on top of him. Vergil shifted just enough to let Nero breathe properly.

“What the fuck, Vergil?” Dante said. “I thought you were in the Demon World, but you show up here with some screaming, probably kidnapped baby and start bleeding all over my floor. What the hell?” He shoved at Vergil roughly. “You’re crushing that kid.” His voice sharpened. “What happened to him? Vergil, what did you do? You sick fuck, it’s just a baby! God, he’s covered in blood!”

“His arm,” Vergil managed, his voice weak.

Dante shoved Vergil again and managed to free Nero, immediately inspecting Nero’s bloodied arm. “Shit. This is low, even for you.”

Vergil grabbed Dante’s jacket with all the strength he had left. “I didn’t hurt him. Stop the bleeding.”

Dante stared at Vergil for a long moment before shoving his hand off. He stood up with Nero and Vergil felt a spike of panic. Was Dante going to take Nero and leave Vergil here to die? Was he going to take Vergil’s son from him?

But he didn’t. He returned within minutes, Nero screaming and crying, but with a carefully bandaged arm. The boy was coated in blood, though Vergil suspected most of it was his.

Dante set Nero down and pried Vergil’s coat off, ignoring Vergil’s pained protests. He cut through Vergil’s shirt and dragged over a first aid kit, beginning to tend to Vergil’s wounds.

“What’s going on, Vergil? Who is this kid? And what happened?” Dante asked as he worked.

Vergil had not expected Dante to actually tend to his wounds. He had expected Dante to kill him.

Vergil let out a pained snarl, clenching a fist and smacking it to the floor as Dante cleaned one of the deeper wounds on his back. He tensed up, trying not to writhe in pain, gritting his teeth.

Nero crawled over to Vergil, grabbing at his arm. He was still crying, his white hair stained red with Vergil’s blood. 

“Da,” he sobbed.

“It’s okay,” Vergil managed, his voice gruff from pain. He reached up and pulled Nero closer. “You’re safe now.”

He realized Dante had stopped working abruptly. He looked at his twin, and Dante stared back.

“Did he just call you-”

“I am his father.”

Dante looked from Vergil to Nero. He pointed at Nero. “That was definitely not from a crazy night in the Demon World.”

“He was - ungh!” Dante had started back up on Vergil’s wounds. Vergil pressed his hand flat to the floor so he wouldn’t accidentally grab Nero too roughly. “He was conceived before that.”

“You had a son, and you still went on your power trip?” Dante said in disgust.

“I didn’t know I had a son. I found him when I escaped the Demon World.” Vergil growled in pain again. Dante was not exactly gentle in his wound care technique. “He wasn’t exactly planned.”

Dante let out a bitter laugh. “So you knock someone up, dip out to the Demon World - which is convenient for you, since I doubt they’ll track you there for the child support - and then come back and, what, take him demon hunting?”

“Ambushed,” Vergil said. He was growing dizzy again, vision darkening at the edges. He put his arm around Nero, not wanting to let the child go. He had no idea if Dante would take him and run.

“Da,” Nero cried. He flailed his injured arm at Vergil. “Owww!”

“I know,” Vergil said, resting his head on the floor. He reached up and stroked Nero’s hair. “You’re okay now. You’re safe. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

He mumbled something else, but did not catch his own words as he passed out.

***

When Vergil came to, he was no longer on the floor. He was on a couch with a blanket resting over him. Bandages claimed much of his body.

He nearly jerked upright as it all came back to him, but then he felt the familiar spot of warmth against his side. He looked down to find Nero, thumb tucked securely in his mouth, curled against him.

He put an arm around Nero. The boy had been cleaned; his hair was still damp from a bath and he wore a shirt that was much too large on him. 

Vergil tugged the sleeve of the shirt up and examined the way Nero’s arm was bandaged. Dante was not great at medical care, but it was an adequate enough job. 

Dante-

“He’s really yours?”

Vergil turned, already reaching for the Yamato. He felt a flare of panic when he didn’t find it at his waist, then noticed it leaning against the couch at his feet.

Dante sat in a chair near them, cleaning his guns. He was watching Vergil, his expression guarded.

Vergil guarded his own expression. “Yes.”

“How do you know? Where’s his mother?”

“Dead, I suspect. The Yamato reacts to him and…the age is right.”

“And they say I’m the reckless one,” Dante said, shaking his head. “Kid’s gotta be, what, two?”

“Almost,” Vergil said.

Dante laughed. There was no humor in it. “Leave it to you, Verge.”

Vergil didn’t respond to that. He wished he was not here, but he knew there was no place else he could’ve gone. He’d panicked in that moment, thinking only of where he could take Nero so someone would care for the boy if Vergil succumbed to his wounds.

“What happened, Vergil?” Dante demanded. “You can start with how you escaped the Demon World, then explain how you found your oops baby, and finish up with what the hell happened to the two of you that caused you to portal into my office on the brink of death.”

Vergil felt a spike of fury at Dante’s tone. Vergil didn’t owe his brother anything.

Vergil sat up, disguising his pain the best he could. “We’ll be leaving.”

“Vergil-”

“Coming here was a mistake,” Vergil said coldly. “I only did it because I had to get him away from those demons. The danger is gone and so are we.”

He reached to lift Nero, but Dante put a firm hand on his shoulder and pushed him back. Vergil tried to strike out at Dante, but Dante easily caught his arm.

“You can’t leave,” Dante said. Before Vergil could argue, Dante pushed him back again. Vergil let out a hiss of pain at the agony that spiked through his back. “You’re too injured. You can’t look after a kid in your state.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my son on my own,” Vergil said. Not…exactly the truth. But they’d been managing. A few more injuries wouldn’t make much difference.

“Vergil, dammit, you’re burning up with a fever, you’re covered in new and old wounds, and you can barely sit up,” Dante said, crossing his arms. “If it’ll help your pride swallow it, I’m doing it for him, not you.” He nodded at Nero. “If that kid really is my nephew, I’m not going to send him off with someone who looks like he could drop dead any second.”

“What do you mean ‘really is my nephew’?” Vergil said, glaring. “He’s my son.”

Vergil grabbed the Yamato. He ignored the guns Dante trained on him as he partially unsheathed the sword, showing the way it reacted to Nero’s presence. 

“Alright, yea, he’s really my nephew. My point still stands. You can’t look after him in your state,” Dante said.

Vergil set the sword down, keeping his hand on it. He did feel considerably worse; his fever must’ve spiked again from the stress and exertion. 

He looked down at Nero. It wasn’t good for them to stay here. It was best to leave now, while the boy still slept and didn’t know Dante was his family. 

“Vergil,” Dante said, seeming to read his expression. “Look at him. You said demons did that to you? What if they come after you again? Will your pride be enough to protect him?”

Nero had some mild bruises on his body, probably from Vergil getting knocked around so much. That bandage took up so much of his little arm. 

He could’ve been killed.

Vergil grit his teeth. “One night. Just one night so I can rest. He stays right here with me the whole time.”

Dante looked like he had a million questions, but wisely kept silent. He left, returning a few minutes later with a few water bottles and a box of pizza.

Vergil wasn’t hungry, but he did help himself to a water bottle while Dante snacked away on pizza. He wasn’t surprised Dante wouldn’t leave him with peace and quiet. Dante didn’t trust Vergil.

Vergil drifted in and out of sleep. He kept his hand on Nero at all times to make sure Dante didn’t try to take the child from him while he slept. 

He woke as Nero shifted beneath his touch. Nero picked his head up, looking around the room. He put his hand on Vergil’s chest and tried to shake him.

“Da,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. “Da, eat.”

“Pizza, little dude?” Dante offered, holding his half-eaten slice out.

Vergil pushed it away impatiently. “Don’t you have anything else?”

“No,” Dante said. “This is literally all I have to eat right now. I haven’t been shopping since the weekend.”

Vergil tried to rub out the headache that was forming, realized there was no point, and carefully shifted himself into a sitting position. He’d barely managed it when Nero clung to him.

He was watching Vergil with wide, frightened eyes. Vergil stared at him in confusion.

“He thought you were getting up,” Dante said.

Of course Dante could tell what was wrong shortly after meeting the child. Of course Dante was better at this.

“I’m staying right here,” Vergil assured Nero, pulling the boy onto his lap to prove his point.

He grabbed a piece of pizza and ripped part of it into small pieces, handing them to Nero. Nero hungrily ate them, seeming pleased by the taste.

Dante was grinning as he watched. “Good, he’s got good taste in food.”

Nero looked up at Dante, eyes locking on his piece of pizza. He reached his hand out for it.

“Ah?” he said, pointing at it and making a grabbing motion.

Dante held the piece close to Nero’s hand, then snatched it away before Nero could grab it. Nero let out an offended noise and reached for it again.

“Dante, stop that,” Vergil said, glaring at him. “Don’t tease him like he’s a dog.” 

Dante snatched the pizza away again. “Aw, we’re just playing around, Vergil.” He grinned at Nero again, waving the pizza in his face. “Right, little guy?”

Vergil could see the oncoming tantrum. He glanced between the two, then decided to let Dante learn the hard way.

Sure enough, Dante leaned a little too close while taunting Nero. Nero pulled his hand back and smacked Dante in the face.

“Ba’ boy!” he said angrily.

The startled expression on Dante’s face was worth it. Vergil had to suppress a grin of his own.

“Alright, alright, pizza’s yours, kid,” Dante said, tearing off a piece and handing it to Nero. “Jeez, did you teach him that?”

The urge to grin disappeared. “No.”

Nero, who hadn’t even finished the piece Dante had given him, reached for the open pizza box with his injured arm. He yelped at the movement, dropping his piece of pizza on Vergil’s lap and grabbing at his arm, starting to cry.

“Stop that,” Vergil said, pulling Nero’s hand away from the bandages. “You need to keep your arm still.”

“Da, hug,” Nero sobbed, holding his good arm out. “Hug. Owww!”

Vergil lifted Nero up and hugged him, careful of his injured arm. Nero pressed his face into Vergil’s shoulder as he cried.

This was Vergil’s fault. He’d been too weak to protect Nero. Too distracted to notice the approaching danger. Too slow to prevent Nero from being injured. 

“You’re alright,” Vergil said quietly, stroking a hand along Nero’s hair. He would recover. Vergil kept reminding himself of that. No permanent damage done. He had failed, but not irreparably.

He noticed Dante watched with an unreadable expression on his face. Vergil tensed up, unconsciously turning his body a little to move Nero away from Dante’s gaze.

“What?” he asked sharply.

Dante shook himself a little. “Nothing. Just…surprised you’re not actually terrible with him.”

That was laughably inaccurate. Vergil chose to ignore that rather than demean himself by correcting Dante. 

Nero finally pulled his face away, wiping at his tears. He struggled, the sleeves so long his hands got tangled in them. Vergil used his own fingers to wipe the tears away instead.

“Ah?” Nero said, pointing at Dante and looking at Vergil expectantly.

Vergil supposed it couldn’t be helped. He could always take Nero away from here tomorrow and hope the child forgot about Dante.

“Who, me?” Dante said before Vergil could respond. He gave Nero a goofy grin. “I’m Dante. I’m the cooler twin and the fun uncle.”

“Ah?” Nero repeated, looking at Dante curiously.

“Dante,” Dante repeated.

Nero scrunched up his face in concentration. “Da?”

“No,” Vergil snapped, tightening his hold on Nero.

His own behavior startled him, as it startled Nero. Nero let out an undignified squeal and scowled at Vergil. 

Vergil knew it was foolish. Of course Nero couldn’t pronounce Dante’s name. Of course it was easier for him to shorten it to a word he already used regularly.

But hearing his own son call Dante that sent anger lighting through every inch of his mind. 

Nero was his son. Not Dante’s.

Nero whined until Vergil loosened his hold, swatting at Vergil’s hands irritably. He went back to staring at Dante as soon as he was free of the too-tight grip.

“Your name is too difficult for him,” Vergil said, trying to regain his composure.

“Maybe his name is too difficult for me, too. I don’t know his name,” Dante said. He propped his elbows on his knees, rested his chin in palms, and looked at Nero. “Well? What’s your name?”

Nero frowned.

“Name,” Dante repeated, slower. 

“Newo,” Nero said, brightening. He pointed at himself. “Newo.” He pointed at Vergil. “Da!” 

“He has trouble speaking. His name is Nero,” Vergil said. 

“Uh, duh he has trouble speaking. He’s a baby,” Dante said. “Nero, huh? Pretty cool name, kid.”

Nero’s eyes had caught on Dante’s guns. He pointed at them, wide-eyed.

“Ah?” he said eagerly.

Dante took one out and held it out to Nero. Vergil immediately pulled the little boy back, away from Dante.

“Dante! Keep that worthless filth away from him,” Vergil said. 

“He wants to see it!” Dante said.

“He also wants to eat his own socks some days. That doesn’t mean you let him.” Vergil sneered at the guns. “He’ll be better than using such cowardly means, anyway.” 

“Nah,” Dante said, reaching out and ruffling Nero’s hair. “We’ll have the little guy in the jackpot club before you know it.”

Vergil pushed Dante’s hand away. “Stop that. He’s injured.”

“Not his head. I checked his injuries. The arm is the worst, and then he’s just got some bruises,” Dante said. 

Nero tugged anxiously on Vergil’s arm. “Da, fix.”

Vergil felt too sore to get up, but like hell was going to let Dante care for his son. He’d managed before and he’d manage now.

“Where’s your bathroom, Dante?” he asked, trying to shift his body so he could more easily get up. “He needs to be changed and I need to shower.” Dante must’ve cleaned most of the blood off Vergil, but he could feel some crusted into his hair and dried onto his legs. 

Dante pointed towards the back of his office. “Back there. I bathed the kid before and had to go pick up diapers for him. They’re in there.”

Vergil didn’t know whether to be relieved there were diapers, or irritated that Dante had already been caring for Nero while Vergil was pathetically indisposed on the couch.

He lifted Nero and slowly got to his feet, pushing past the pain and bone-deep exhaustion he felt. He trudged to the bathroom and kicked the door shut, setting Nero down.

He got the boy changed and had him sit in the corner while he took the bandages off and showered. The warm water felt good on Vergil’s sore body. He took stock of his injuries as he scrubbed the blood out of his hair, grimacing at how deep some of the cuts were. 

When he finished cleaning, he applied clean bandages and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stared in despair at his blood-stained pants.

A knock on the door startled him into a defensive position that made his back throb in pain. The knock came again.

“Hey, I’m leaving clothes out here. But I want them back, you mooch,” Dante’s voice called. “I’m only doing this so the kid and I don’t have to see you strutting around in the nude.”

Vergil listened until Dante’s footsteps faded. He cracked the door open and pulled the clothes in, expecting Dante to leave him some utterly ridiculous outfit.

Apparently Dante was - mostly - picking his fights. The clothes were as undignified as Dante himself, but the outfit consisted of just a plain, worn-out pair of sweatpants and a faded T-shirt. Vergil put them on, reminding himself this was just for one night.

He picked Nero back up and left the room, heading back to the couch. He was ready to catch some more sleep, his body demanding the rest.

Dante was in the chair again as Vergil sat down with Nero in his lap. Nero’s eyes went so wide they basically bugged out of his head. His gaze darted between Dante and Vergil.

“What?” Vergil asked.

“Uh, Vergil?” Dante gestured between them. “We’re twins.”

It took Vergil’s tired brain a long moment to realize that showering had made his hair fall down just like Dante’s. Nero continued to look between them, pointing from Dante to Vergil. His finger tentatively hovered in front of Vergil.

“Da…?” he said uncertainly. 

“Yes. I’m your father,” Vergil said firmly. Nero still looked uncertain, peeking back at Dante. “Nero.” The boy’s attention fixed back on him. Vergil pointed at himself. “Dad.”

“Da,” Nero said in relief. He grabbed a fistful of Vergil’s shirt, then looked nervously to Dante. He pointed to Vergil. “Da.” He pointed to Dante. “Ah?”

“I don’t even have the mental capacity for this right now,” Vergil mumbled tiredly. He pushed a hand through his hair, attempting to fix it up a little. 

“Well, he needs something to call me,” Dante said.

“He does not,” Vergil said, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

Dante knew exactly what Vergil meant, though, and pressed his lips together, expression tightening. Vergil laid down, tucking Nero against his side.

But Nero had clearly had enough of sleeping. He shook Vergil’s shoulder.

“Da,” he whined. He pretended to swing a sword in the air, then looked at Vergil expectantly.

“Dad’s tired, Nero,” Vergil said. “Sick.”

Nero put his hand to Vergil’s forehead, then frowned. “Sick.”

“Yes, sick. Bed,” Vergil said. 

Nero seemed to contemplate this, then pointed at Dante. “Newo?”

“No. Stay with me,” Vergil said. “I want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself any worse.” 

Nero whined at that. Vergil doubted he could keep himself awake for much longer than another five minutes, but he resigned himself to try if it kept his child away from Dante.

“Dante,” he said dryly. “Do you have a book? It can be any book.”

Dante frowned. With Vergil’s luck, his idiot twin wouldn’t have a single book in the place.

But Dante managed to dig out a dusty old book from his desk, bringing it over and trying to blow the dust off. He passed it to Vergil, who flipped it open and held his hand out to Nero.

Nero immediately put his hand in Vergil’s, pointing his finger. Vergil traced it along the lines, ignoring the actual words and reciting a poem from memory. 

He struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to finish the poem. In the end, sleep won out, and he pulled his son closer as he fell into darkness once more.

Chapter Text

Vergil must’ve been really sick to actually sleep in Dante’s presence. He looked terrible, covered in injuries, paler than usual, cheeks flushed with fever. 

Dante was still trying to comprehend the fact that Vergil was here. Also, that Vergil was a father.

And not…not all that bad of a father.

He held the boy a little awkwardly, but with obvious protectiveness. And the way he hugged the boy and stroked his hair…they were the most gentle acts Dante had seen from Vergil since they were children. 

Even watching Vergil guide Nero’s finger along the words of the book and reading to him made it hard to believe this was really the man who’d been so power hungry just a couple of years ago. 

Dante sat and watched the kid as he traced the words of the book. He was nuzzled comfortably into Vergil’s side, unafraid to be cuddled up with such a brutal man.

“Hey, Nero,” Dante said.

Nero picked his head up. He still seemed bothered by the fact that his dad had evidently cloned himself. He grabbed a fistful of Vergil’s shirt, as if reminding himself which twin was actually his father.

“C’mere, kid, want to play?” Dante said, holding a hand out to him.

The kid was admittedly adorable. Messy white hair, big blue eyes, cheeks puffed with baby-fat. Drowning in a too-big T-shirt made him look even smaller than he was, only adding to his innocence.

Dante couldn’t believe Vergil had a son. He wanted desperately to know that story, but he was forcing himself not to pry. If he did, Vergil would leave, and he was in no condition to care for this baby right now.

Still, if Vergil really did intend to leave and cut Dante from Nero’s life, Dante was determined to spend as much time with Nero as he could now. Maybe the kid would even get attached enough to bug Vergil into bringing him back around sometime. 

Dante had not expected to have a family again. Nero could change that; maybe the boy could even change Vergil.

“C’mon little buddy,” Dante encouraged.

He must’ve looked enough like Vergil to warrant inspection, because the kid tentatively released Vergil’s shirt and crawled over his lap towards Dante’s hand. That Vergil didn’t even stir told Dante he was completely out of it for a while.

Dante scooped Nero up, tossing him in the air. Nero let out a surprised yelp, but was giggling as Dante caught him and immediately tickled him.

“See? Fun uncle,” Dante assured.

Nero looked between Dante and Vergil, brow furrowed. He hesitantly pointed at Vergil.

“Da?” he questioned. 

“Yea, that’s your dad. The stick’s so far up his ass we’ll need to get it surgically removed, but I’m sure we’ll manage together,” Dante said.

Nero reached up, pressing his hand to Dante’s head. He looked between the twins again, obviously confused. 

“Sick?” he said, pressing his hand harder to Dante’s head.

Dante pulled his hand away. “Nope, little guy. I’m not sick. Your dad is sick, though.”

“Da sick,” Nero agreed solemnly. 

“Has he been sick a long time?” Dante asked.

Nero nodded and pointed at Vergil. “Da sick!” 

Dante figured Vergil’s fever wasn’t new. Maybe his brother was misguided, but Vergil was fast and powerful. For any demons to make him so desperate he’d flee to Dante was incredible. He had to have already been weakened when the attack started.

“Well, let’s go somewhere else so we don’t wake your dad up, okay, kid?” Dante said, starting to walk away with Nero.

Nero began to whine, squirming in Dante’s arms. He reached out for Vergil’s, tears springing to his eyes.

“No!” he whimpered. “No! Da!” 

“Nero, we don’t want to wake him up. He’s fine,” Dante promised. He took a few more cautious steps away from Vergil, starting around the corner.

Nero began to cry in earnest, shifting so that he could smack Dante. “Ba’ boy! No! Nonono! Da!”

“Jeez, you hit hard,” Dante said, immediately backtracking. “Okay, okay, dad’s right there. See? Please stop crying. Shit, kid, please stop crying. If he wakes up and realizes I’m the reason you’re crying, he’s going to stab me again.”

The closer they got to Vergil, the more Nero’s crying eased. He squirmed relentlessly until Dante set him down, then waddle-ran over to the couch to grip Vergil’s shirt. 

Dante felt bad as he watched the kid. That demon attack must’ve terrified the poor boy. Seeing Vergil bloodied and unconscious definitely hadn’t helped matters. 

Dante sat next to Nero. “Hey, Nero, guess what?”

Nero sniffled and looked at Dante, not loosening his hold on Vergil’s shirt. Dante grinned and held up one of his guns.

“Dad’s asleep, which means he can’t kick my ass for letting you look at this,” he said.

Nero, for all his trauma-induced attachment to Vergil, was just a little boy. He released Vergil’s shirt in favor of running his hand over the gun curiously.

“This one’s called Ebony,” Dante explained as Nero examined the gun. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you your own when you’re older. I won’t let your dad suck all the fun out of your soul.”

He tried to think of what they could do while Vergil slept. He wanted to keep the kid entertained, but it wasn’t exactly like he had toys or games here to do that.

While he was thinking, Nero scooted back towards Vergil. Or, at least, Dante thought it was to Vergil at first. It took him a few moments to notice Nero was tugging the Yamato towards himself.

Dante’s arm shot out, managing to catch the sword just before it could fall over right on Nero’s head. He righted it, ignoring Nero’s angry, babbled protests.

“Not a good toy, kid,” Dante said. “Take it from someone who’s been stabbed by that sword before.”

Hm…maybe…

“Wait here,” he instructed Nero. He shifted the Yamato onto the couch, hopefully out of Nero’s reach, then hurried to one of the other rooms.

The best he could find were two thin, wooden poles he’d used to prop up one of the broken windows on hot days. He broke one in half and carried it out to the couch.

Nero was slapping his hand against the couch in displeasure, calling out “Da” in a moody attempt to wake Vergil. Dante picked him up, spinning him away from Vergil.

“Nope, kid. Your old man is sick, and we need to let him sleep. Also, if he’s sleeping, he’s not glaring and subtly-but-not-subtly warning me he’s taking you away never for us to meet again,” Dante said, setting Nero back on his feet. He held out the wooden pole. “A peace offering.”

Nero grabbed it, looking pleased as he swung it. He proudly pointed at his own chest. “Da!”

“What, you want to be like your dad?” Dante said. “No way. Uncle Dante is the one who always wins.”

He held his own half of the pole out. Nero smacked it with his half, giggling. 

Dante lightly hit Nero’s half back and the two started up a play fight. Nero was wildly uncoordinated, falling on his ass several times when he put too much momentum behind his wind-up on swings. But the kid always huffed and got right back up.

His giggling turned into full blown laughter as he played with Dante. Dante couldn’t keep the wide grin off his face as he played with his nephew, taunting and teasing the kid, even if the boy probably couldn’t understand most of what Dante said. 

“Come on! You’re worse than your dad, and that’s saying something,” Dante said, striking out at Nero and lightly poking his good arm.

Nero shrieked in playful delight, swatting Dante’s pole away and lashing out with his own. He stumbled forward with his momentum, but Dante caught him and tossed him up into the air again before catching him and setting him back down for another round.

Nero hit Dante in the shin before sitting down. His face was flushed from laughter, hair messier than before. His eyes were shining with joy.

“Ah,” Nero said, opening his mouth and pointing. 

“Hungry?” Dante asked.

Nero frowned at him. He pointed at his mouth again.

“Joo bah,” he said.

“I have no idea what you just said to me, but I support it,” Dante said, crouching in front of his nephew. “Try again, please.”

“Joo bah!” Nero whined. 

“Joo…bah…joo- oh! Juice box!” Dante said. “I got it. What do I win?”

Nero pointed at his mouth expectantly. 

“Well, I don’t have a juice box, but I have water,” Dante said, grabbing a water bottle and uncapping it for Nero. He saw the clumsy way Nero grabbed it and hastily put his own hand back on the bottle to help safely guide it up to Nero’s mouth. “Are you really telling me big, bad Vergil buys juice boxes now? Kid, does he drink them too? Shit, we need to teach you how to talk so you can give me all the dirt on my brother.” 

Nero yawned and rubbed at his eyes. “Bed.” He looked up at Dante, the joy in his eyes replaced by the sleepiness that came from too much excitement for a little body. He held his good arm out to Dante. “Da, bed.”

Dante picked Nero up and made sure Nero could see Vergil. “No, Nero. That’s your dad,” he said, surprised at how gentle his own voice was. “That’s your dad.”

Nero yawned again and reached for Vergil, squirming against Dante’s hold. “Da. Da, bed!”

He set Nero down on the couch and Nero immediately curled his back up against Vergil’s side, popping his thumb into his mouth and closing his eyes. Dante sat back down, watching father and son sleep.

His mind drifted to Vergil’s reaction earlier when Nero had called Dante “da”. It had been an obvious mistake, just a case of Nero attempting to pronounce “Dante” and failing. The kid had clearly not confused the twins at that point. 

But Vergil had been so angry. And so, so hurt.

Vergil liked to think he could hide the emotions he considered weaker. But Dante could read his brother far too well. 

This child meant a lot to Vergil. Dante still didn’t entirely trust Vergil as a father, but he couldn’t deny that the boy was important to Vergil. Maybe Vergil didn’t love Nero; Dante didn’t know if Vergil was capable of loving anyone anymore. But he saw Nero as important and worthy of protection, and for Vergil, that may as well be love.

He cared enough about Nero to reveal both of them to Dante to protect the child. That told Dante a lot about Vergil’s affection towards Nero.

“Don’t hurt him, little guy,” Dante said, tucking a lock of Nero’s hair behind his ear. “Whatever humanity he has left is hanging around for your sake, kid. No pressure or anything.”

Dante couldn’t let Vergil take the kid and disappear. This was their chance at having a family again, small and broken as it might be. Nero could be the one thing in the world to finally remind Vergil of his humanity and drag him away from his futile quest for power. 

“Yea, no pressure, buddy,” Dante said softly.

They had a chance. Vergil had refused to take Dante’s hand, but maybe he’d take Nero’s. Maybe there was hope for all of them yet.

Chapter Text

When Vergil woke up, his throat was so dry that it was hard to swallow. He shifted a little, feeling the pain lingering around his various injuries. His body felt stiff and sore, but his head, miraculously, felt a little better. It still felt like someone had stuffed cotton into his brain, but at least the overpowering, pounding headache had dulled to a mild throb.

He felt the familiar press of warmth against his chest. He wondered how long he’d been out for if Nero was still here with him.

He looked over, irritated but unsurprised to see Dante still sitting there, flipping through a magazine. He noticed Vergil was awake and gave that annoying grin of his.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, brother,” he said.

“How long did I sleep for?” Vergil asked, his voice rough. He felt around until he’d grabbed one of the water bottles Dante had brought, uncapping it and forcing himself to take slow sips.

“A long time,” Dante said. “Vergil, your wounds should’ve healed by now. And those older ones should definitely be gone.”

Vergil knew that, too. He examined his visible wounds.

“I think,” he started slowly, “it is a result of my time in the Demon World. My body has not recovered from the damage done to it there.”

For all his demon heritage, half of Vergil was still human. The Demon World was not kind to humans. It destroyed them mercilessly. His body was still carrying on thanks to the demonic side of Vergil, but the human side was slowing his recovery.

Rest would have no doubt fixed that, but it was hard to rest when you had a tantrum-prone small child.

“Vergil,” Dante said. “You, as usual, are being an absolute idiot. You can’t recover and care for a kid at the same time. Not in your condition.”

Vergil felt anger and fear strike him at the same time. So this was it; Dante found an excuse to take Nero from him. Dante always did want to steal everything from Vergil. 

“He’s my son,” Vergil said, his voice low and threatening. “He stays with me.”

Dante threw his hands up in exasperation. “What am I, CPS? I’m not taking him away. I’m just saying you need help, you idiot. If you keep being stubborn about it, you’re going to hit a condition where you really can’t care for him.”

“Oh, and you’re the answer?” Vergil demanded angrily. “You’re immature. You have no right to be around an impressionable child.”

“You stabbed me, but I’m the bad influence?!”

“I will not have my child influenced by you!” 

“You’re trying to act all high and mighty, but you’re already weak enough that the kid got his arm slashed open.”

Vergil felt like he’d been struck, so he struck right back, reflexive at this point. “You can’t even afford to keep the lights in this slum house on most days, but you think you’re responsible enough to help raise a child?”

Vergil could feel their anger towards each other building towards yet another fight between them. The air felt charged with it, oppressing both of them with their inevitable conflict. There could be no peace between them; they were born to clash.

Their voices were getting louder as Dante continued to point out that Nero was injured as a result of Vergil’s weakened state, and Vergil continued to point out that Dante couldn’t even take proper care of himself much less a dependent child.

Dante leaned forward as it shifted into a yelling match, opening his mouth to spit out yet another insult. A surprisingly fast blur of white hair passed by Vergil’s face, and then Nero’s little hand was smacking across Dante’s mouth.

“Ba’ boy!” Nero wailed, tears in his eyes.

Vergil hadn’t even realized Nero had woken up and been enduring their fight. He pulled the child into his lap, keeping a protective arm around him.

“See?” Dante said, gesturing to Nero. “You’re really going to tell me he didn’t learn that from you? That’s his go-to when someone is upsetting him. I haven’t even known him 24 hours yet and that much is obvious. He learned that from someone, Vergil.”

“He learned it from the people at the orphanage who used to do it to him!” Vergil snapped. “I’ve never struck him.” 

That seemed to surprise Dante enough to shave off some of his anger. “Orphanage? He was at an orphanage?” 

“Yes. And not treated well,” Vergil said, holding Nero closer. “Mind you, I have never struck my child, but I will gladly strike you if you keep making accusations like that.” 

“Last time I saw you, you were not exactly father material, so I think it’s fair to assume he learned aggressive behavior from you,” Dante pointed out. 

Vergil ignored him, focusing instead on wiping away Nero’s tears. Nero held his arms out to Vergil.

“Hug?” he said.

Vergil pulled him in for a hug. He mentally added yelling to the list of things that set Nero off, and mentally pictured slicing through every employee at the orphanage. 

Nero rubbed at his eyes as he pulled away from Vergil. “Fix.”

“Alright,” Vergil said, sitting up cautiously. His body ached, but he managed to stand without much challenge. 

He did not speak to Dante as he left for the bathroom. He changed Nero, then looked at himself in the mirror, quickly realizing why Nero had no trouble telling the difference between the twins this time. Vergil’s hair was a mess, standing up at awkward angles. He wet his hands and tried to push it up into some semblance of his usual style.

Nero tugged on his pant leg until Vergil picked him up. Nero stuck his fingers under the water and pushed them messily through his hair, beaming a smile up at Vergil.

Vergil’s throat felt tight as he looked at his son. No one had ever admired Vergil. No one had ever wanted to be like him. Dante was always in the spotlight. 

“It looks good, Nero,” Vergil said. 

Nero pointed proudly to his hair. “Da.”

“Yes, just like dad’s hair,” Vergil said.

He thought of his mother. He bent down and kissed Nero’s head, just like his mother used to kiss him when he’d done something he was proud of. 

Nero seemed curious at the new motion, but didn’t argue against it. Instead, he pointed to his mouth.

“Eat,” he said. 

“Let’s see if Dante has anything besides cold pizza. My hopes aren’t high,” Vergil said, carrying Nero out.

Sure enough, Dante wasn’t kidding when he said the pizza was all the food he currently had. Vergil sat back on the couch and resigned himself to cold pizza.

Nero seemed happy enough to eat it, at least. He stayed in Vergil’s lap, seemingly pleased he could tell which twin was his dad again.

Nero finished eating and pointed at Dante. “Ah!” He mimed swinging something.

“No, Nero,” Vergil said, pulling Nero’s arm back down. The last thing he needed was for Nero to see the sloppy swordsmanship Dante fought with. 

Nero whined and pointed at Dante again. “Ah!”

“No clue what you mean, kid,” Dante said. “Pick a new word and try again.”

Nero angrily imitated swinging the sword again. “Ah.”

“Stop that. You’re going to hurt your arm again. We should probably change your bandages,” Vergil said, carefully lifting Nero’s bad arm.

Dante got up and grabbed fresh bandages and some rubbing alcohol to clean the wound with. Vergil unwrapped the bandages, then stared.

“What? Is it infected?” Dante asked.

“No. It’s…healing,” Vergil said.

The long, deep slash had shrunk in size, not a lot, but noticeably enough. Dante moved closer to peer at it, letting out a whistle.

“Kid’s got some demon in him,” Dante said, ruffling Nero’s hair. “He’s healing faster than you, Vergil.”

Vergil cleaned and bandaged the wound, which Nero predictably did not make an easy task. But Dante helped hold Nero still so Vergil could finish. 

“We should be going,” Vergil said.

“Oh, no,” Dante groaned. “Vergil, look at yourself. You can’t properly take care of the kid like this.”

“I feel much better,” Vergil said tightly.

“Your wounds aren’t healing. That’s not normal,” Dante said.

“I am fine, Dante,” Vergil said.

Nero, oblivious to the fight this time thanks to their tense but controlled tones, tugged on Vergil’s sleeve. “Da, joo bah?”

“What?” Vergil said.

“Juice box,” Dante said. “He asked for one earlier, too.”

“He…asked you?” Dante got to hear one of Nero’s new words before Vergil did? 

“Uh, yea? You were dead to the world,” Dante said. “All I have to give him is water. Sorry, little guy.” He offered a water bottle.

Nero swatted it away, scowling. “No. Joo bah.”

“We have to go home for that, Nero,” Vergil said. “Do you want to go home?”

“Ah!” he said, climbing into Vergil’s lap and nodding. And then, to Vergil’s dismay, Nero held his hand out to Dante to come with them.

“No, Nero. He’s not coming home with us,” Vergil said, striving for calm but firm. He slipped a little more into firm than he’d intended. 

Nero frowned. He pointed at Dante, then pointed at himself. “Ah?”

“No, he’s not coming with us,” Vergil repeated. “No, Nero.”

Nero’s face scrunched up as the tears and tantrum started. Vergil sighed heavily, resigning himself to this fight. Nero would get over Dante in a few days once they were away from him. This was a temporary fight.

“He!” Nero wailed, pointing at Dante again. “He!” He pointed at himself. “Newo!”

“He’s not coming.” Vergil had a feeling he was about to say that repeatedly for the next ten minutes. 

Nero let out a frustrated cry and smacked Vergil. “Ba’ boy!”

Vergil grabbed his wrist. “Stop that! You can’t keep hitting when you’re angry!”

Dante, unhelpful as ever, snorted. “Now, ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Dante!” Vergil snapped, patience already strained by Nero’s tantrum. 

“Let the kid stay another night. You get to sleep, and I’ll get some juice boxes for the bitch-slap champion over there,” Dante said.

“Don’t swear in front of him!” Vergil said. “I struggle with his vocabulary as it is. The last thing I need is for your vulgarity to be the thing he picks up on. We are not staying here. I need to get him back home.”

Honestly, staying here another night was tempting. He rarely slept more than three hours at a time thanks to Nero. Plus, the house was a disaster he’d have to clean while also soothing Nero’s tantrums over Dante.

“No, no, no!” Nero cried, lashing out to smack Vergil again. Vergil caught his hand and held it steady.

“Nero,” he snarled, shaking Nero a little. “Stop that. Stop hitting.”

Nero only cried harder. Vergil stood up, ignoring Nero as he thrashed to get out of Vergil’s arms. 

“We’re leaving,” Vergil said.

“Vergil, wait,” Dante said, grabbing his shoulder.

Vergil may have been weakened from his injuries, but he dropped Nero onto the couch and took up the Yamato in a swift motion, digging the scabbard into Dante’s gut to drive him back.

“Oomph!” Dante stumbled back. “See, this is how I know you’re in no shape for this. You can’t even hurt me when you’re trying.”

“Who said I was trying? Touch me again and find out,” Vergil said.

Dante held up his hands. “One more day, Vergil. Just stay one more day.”

“Why would you even want me to stay?” Vergil said, tightening his hold on the Yamato. “It’s not me you want to stay. It’s Nero.”

“Of course it is,” Dante said. “I just found out I have a nephew, and now you’re trying to take him away never to be seen again.”

“So you try to win him over before that can happen? Hope his tantrums keep him in your grasp?” Vergil said.

“How insecure are you, Vergil? Jeez, it’s called bonding. You hate my guts, but the kid doesn’t have to. Sorry I want to spend time with my nephew,” Dante said.

Said nephew was sobbing in the background. Vergil was half tempted to shove the kid into Dante’s arms and head home alone for some peace and quiet.

But Nero was his son. He knew exactly what would happen if they stayed here, because it’s what always happened. Nero would decide he liked Dante more than Vergil, just like everyone else always did. Dante was the fun twin. Vergil was the serious one. Everyone always picked the fun one, regardless of how irresponsible and immature Dante was.

Vergil reached to pick Nero up, but Nero shied away from him, whining. Veril grabbed him, and Nero began to scream.

“Stop that! Stop, Nero!” Vergil ordered.

Nero was shoving at Vergil, trying to get free of his hold. Vergil had no idea anymore if it was because he wanted to stay with Dante or because he was scared after seeing Vergil hit Dante.

“Hey, Nero,” Dante said, getting the boy’s attention. “Man, you’ve got a set of lungs on ya, kid. You looking for a job? I could use you as an alarm to warn the town of an incoming demon attack. I’ll pay you in pizza. Deal?”

Nero didn’t actually seem to understand any of that, but he seemed able to tell by Dante’s tone and expression that he was teasing. Nero sniffled and wiped his eyes.

Of course Dante could calm Nero down so easily. Of course it was Vergil the boy screamed at and hit.

Nero pushed on Vergil’s shoulders with a soft whine, reaching his arms out to Dante.

Vergil wished he had never come here. He wished the sight of Nero reaching for Dante instead of him didn’t hurt as much as it did. 

He reluctantly passed Nero over to Dante when it became clear that Nero was about to start crying and screaming again. Dante tossed him up in the air a few times, Nero squealing in delight. 

“There, see? Nothing to cry about,” Dante said, ruffling Nero’s hair. He glanced at Vergil. “So, one more night, what do you say?”

Vergil didn’t really have much choice. He frankly did not have the energy to deal with a tantrum on that scale, not when he still had the house to clean. 

So Dante won again. Perhaps he was fated to win every time. Vergil almost wished he’d allowed Mundus to kill him in their battle, just to avoid yet another defeat at Dante’s hands.

“FIne,” Vergil said. “But if we stay, it is on the condition that you purchase something other than pizza. He needs something healthy to eat.”

“So we take a store trip,” Dante said.

Vergil stared at him. Dante frowned.

“What?” he said.

Vergil gestured to himself, and then to his child. “First of all, neither of us are presentable to be in public. Second, I-” Can’t be spotted because he was being hunted by demons. Probably not something he should be admitting to Dante. “Well, you want him to stay here, you go to the store alone.”

“I don’t know what to buy for a baby,” Dante said, pushing Nero’s lip up. “You have teeth in there, kid?” 

Nero giggled and tried to bite Dante’s finger. Dante snatched it away.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. 

He stared pointendly at Vergil. Vergil could already feel another win creeping towards Dante, because he knew Dante wouldn’t let the two out of his sight. And even if it was just for another night, they had to go to the store for Nero. He couldn’t keep eating cold pizza. That, and his insistence on a juice box was hinting at a tantrum if he didn’t get one soon.

“Fine,” Vergil said reluctantly. He wasn’t letting Nero out of his sight, and Dante wasn’t going to the store by himself. “But let me shower and change.”

“Bedroom’s over there. Help yourself,” Dante said, waving dismissively. 

Vergil brought Nero with him to Dante’s bedroom. He searched Dante’s closet and was relieved to find a plain pair of jeans and a plain hoodie. He glanced at Nero, heart sinking. Dante had probably thrown Nero’s clothes out because of the bloodstains. He had nothing else to dress Nero in. 

Well, Dante wanted the kid to come, he was just going to sacrifice for it. Vergil found a pair of scissors and brought them with him to the bathroom.

He pulled the shirt off Nero and painstakingly cut through it. It would still be baggy on Nero, but at least he wouldn’t drown in it. 

Vergil put the severely mutilated shirt back on Nero and trimmed up the sleeves a bit. He’d cut most of the torso off, so Nero’s legs were actually free of the fabric.

“As good as it’s going to get, unfortunately,” Vergil informed Nero. “Wait right here while I shower, Nero.”

Nero was already entertaining himself with the strips of fabric, tugging on them and trying to wrap them around his legs. Vergil got in the shower, washing himself quickly and then dressing in Dante’s clothes. 

He picked Nero up, letting him keep a few pieces of fabric to play with, and brought him back out to Dante. Dante looked up and frowned.

“My shirt-”

“You got rid of my clothes, and my son’s clothes. You can lose a shirt,” Vergil said.

“My shirt wasn't covered in blood!” Dante said. 

“Are we going, or not?” Vergil asked. “You don’t wear shirts enough for this to be a meaningful argument.”

Even Dante seemed unable to argue that point, so he just grumbled and got up. Vergil held Nero close as they followed Dante out the door.

Surely, no demons would be looking for him in the grocery store, of all places. And if they suspected he might’ve gone to Dante for help, they would’ve already checked and realized he hadn’t come here when he escaped. It would be fine. It had to be, because Vergil wasn’t strong enough to fend off a true attack right now. 

The walk to the store wasn’t far. Nero seemed distracted by his new surroundings, not even getting fussy when they entered the store and were hit by a blast of air conditioning. Vergil tucked Nero’s legs between his arm and chest to keep them warm.

“Alright, what’s he eat?” Dante asked.

“He likes to snack on apple slices,” Vergil said, taking charge despite having no idea what the layout of the store was. He usually bought fruits and vegetables from the open market in Fortuna. 

He found the fruits and grabbed a couple of apples for Nero. He began to wander through the aisles, searching for a quick, easy meal to give Nero for dinner.

“Da!” Nero exclaimed, lurching forward so fast that Vergil nearly dropped him.

“Nero,” Vergil said in irritation. “What is it? Stop squirming. You’re going to fall.”

“Da!” Nero repeated, pointing.

Vergil glanced over and realized there was a brightly colored package of food on the shelf. The colors must’ve caught Nero’s eyes.

“Yes, very colorful,” Vergil said, starting to walk down the aisle.

Nero whined and slapped Vergil on the shoulder, reaching back for the package. “No! No, no! Ah!” 

Vergil could spot a woman in the aisle glancing over at them. He tightened his hold on Nero. How incompetent of a parent he must look right now with his child wearing ill-fitting clothes and about to throw a tantrum over something so ridiculous.

And then Dante swooped in, snatching Nero from Vergil’s arms just before the tears could start. “Hey, none of that, little guy.” He grabbed the package off the shelf and handed it to Nero, who let out a delighted noise.

“Dante,” Vergil ground out, angry he hadn’t thought of just handing Nero the package. “We’re not buying him that. Giving him what he wants whenever he throws a tantrum just reinforces the behavior.”

“We’re not buying it for him. We’re just letting him have a look at it,” Dante said, ruffling Nero’s hair. “Right, Nero? I’m sure you’ll forget all about that when you see a juice box.”

Nero’s eyes widened. “Joo bah?” 

“Yea, kiddo, we’re going to get some juice boxes. Want those more than that?” Dante said, nodding to the package.

Nero went to throw the package, but Vergil snatched it from his hand. “Stop that. You don’t need to throw it. Just set it back down where you got it from.” 

“Joo bah, Da?” Nero said, ignoring the scolding.

“Yes, we’re going to get you juice boxes,” Vergil said, taking his son back from Dante and setting the package back on the shelf. “But you have to behave.”

Nero’s frequent tantrums and crying had seemed to be just part of Vergil’s life nowadays, but having the boy out in public was making him realize just how bad it actually was. Just one more thing to add to the ever-growing list when it came to parenting Nero. 

With that in mind, Vergil tried to hurry through the store, distracting Nero with the strips of fabric as best he could because otherwise the child decided he wanted to play with whatever interesting package on the food shelves caught his eye. Dante managed to help him narrowly avoid two more tantrums with some light teasing and reminders of the juice box prize. 

Vergil felt weak with relief as they hit the last aisle and brought Nero over to the juice boxes. Nero’s eyes lit up and he clapped happily.

“Joo bah!” he cheered. 

Vergil was ready to crawl right back on the couch and sleep away another day. “Yes, Nero. Juice box.”

He grabbed a pack and let Nero hold it, pushing Nero’s hands away when he tried to open the pack. But then he paused, realizing the fatal flaw in this trip.

“I have no money with me. It was in a bag that I left behind during the attack,” he said stiffly.

“Yea, yea, mooch off me,” Dante said with a sigh. “I’ve got it, but only because it’s for Nero.” 

“Thank you.” The words were worse than any of the wounds he’d endured so far. Being reliant on Dante for anything was painful.

So Vergil valiantly watched the total ring up as the items were scanned. Nero was reluctant to let go of his juice boxes and Vergil had to pry them away to get them on the conveyor belt.

“No!” Nero whined, and smacked Vergil. “Ba’ boy! No! Newo joo bah!” 

Dante winced. “Oh, kid, I wouldn’t have done that if I were you. That’s a good way to guarantee you won’t get them.”

Vergil grabbed Nero’s hand and forced the child to meet his eyes. “You don’t get to have one. I told you to stop hitting.”

“Aw, take it easy on him. He thought you were taking them away from him,” Dante said.

“Stay out of this,” Vergil growled. “He doesn’t get to keep hitting like that whenever he doesn’t get his way.” 

Nero was crying now and Vergil grit his teeth, tucking Nero closer to his chest in an attempt to muffle his crying. Dante, thankfully, wasted no time in paying and grabbing the bag of groceries so they could get out of there.

“Look, I get you want to be a stern dad and all, but he’s a baby. He doesn’t understand why you took the juice away from him,” Dante said.

“Dante, he is not your son,” Vergil snapped. “Let me handle his behavior my way.”

“Your way needs to keep in mind that he’s a baby, not an adult who knows any better,” Dante said. 

Vergil ignored him. Nero’s crying was already making Vergil’s headache start back up.

By the time they got back to Dante’s, his headache was a full-blown rager. He set Nero down roughly and grabbed his arm, refusing to let Nero flee to Dante.

“Listen to me. Stop that and listen to me!” Vergil said.

Nero turned his tearful gaze on Vergil, lower lip wobbling. Vergil found it hard to believe one child could cry so much. No wonder he needed the juice; he was probably living with eternal dehydration.

“You do not hit,” Vergil said, speaking slowly and firmly.

Nero decided to prove that he did, indeed, hit. He struck his hand out for Vergil’s face.

Vergil had been expecting it, though. He caught Nero’s hand. “No, Nero. No! No hitting!” 

“Ba’ boy!” Nero yelled, struggling to get his hand free so he could slap Vergil.

“Nero!” Vergil yelled.

Nero flinched back, shielding his face with his free hand. Vergil slowly released Nero’s hand and the boy cowered away from him, whimpering.

“Nero,” Vergil said, striving for calm and nearly achieving it. “Look at me. Nero, look.”

Nero refused, instead curling up defensively and crying into his arms. Vergil picked him up, Nero’s crying getting worse.

“Nero, hug?” he said.

“No,” Nero whimpered. “Newo ba’ boy?”

Yes. Yes, you’re a bad boy. You’re difficult and moody and stubborn. You’re a brat with a hitting problem. 

But Dante is right and you’re just a baby. I know you were abused, and I still yelled at you like that. I just keep screwing up and making this worse.

“No,” Vergil said. “No, you’re not a bad boy. I’m sorry I yelled at you. But you can’t hit. Hitting is bad.”

Nero peeked at Vergil anxiously. “Newo ba’ boy?”

“No,” Vergil said. “Just the hitting is bad. Nero, you’re not bad.”

Nero let out a few more soft cries before slowly opening his arms. “Hug?”

Vergil shifted Nero so that he could hug him. “No hitting. Okay?”

He doubted the lesson would stick for Nero. But for Vergil, all these lessons were sticking, even if he wasn’t great at this.

Nero was a small child, and a formerly abused one at that. Vergil had to stop expecting him to act like a mature adult about things. It was going to be hard work to remember that, but he’d never shied away from a challenge before.

Vergil stood up with Nero in his arms. “Let’s get you a juice box, okay?”

Dante had thankfully stayed quiet the whole time, putting the groceries away and pretending his brother and nephew weren’t having a moment a few feet away. Vergil grabbed a juice box and poked the straw in, handing it to Nero.

Nero happily sipped away at it. He pulled the straw from his mouth and smiled at Vergil, offering it to him. “Da, joo bah?”

Vergil was far too old to drink a juice box. But he swallowed his pride and took a sip from Nero’s straw.

“Thank you, Nero,” Vergil said.

Nero’s big smile eased the stress of the day and reminded Vergil why this was worth all the hard work.

Chapter Text

Nero was getting fussy. He’d eaten and Vergil had changed him, but an hour later, the child was squirming in Vergil’s lap.

“Nero,” Vergil said tiredly. “I don’t know what else you want.”

“He’s probably bored,” Dante said, scooping Nero up. “Huh, kid? What do you usually have him do for fun?”

“We practice his walking and his speech. He likes when I read to him, too,” Vergil said.

“What? I said ‘fun’,” Dante said.

Vergil didn’t even have the energy to glare at his idiot brother. “His speech development is alarmingly behind for his age. He needs the practice. Besides, reading to him keeps him calm.”

“Well, you said he was at an orphanage and they didn’t treat him well. Probably no one ever bothered to help him with his speech development,” Dante said. “Good thing I’m great at talking!”

“I don’t want him learning your atrocious vocabulary,” Vergil said. 

“Why don’t we figure out what he can call me, since he can’t say my name?” Dante suggested.

It wasn’t a bad idea. Nero did need something to refer to Dante as, and it was a way to make him practice talking more. Vergil just didn’t like it because it was Dante’s idea.

“Fine,” he said, leaning back on the couch. “But I highly doubt he can pronounce ‘uncle’, either.”

“Hey buddy, can you say uncle?” Dante asked, speaking the word slowly. “Uncle?”

Nero cocked his head to the side. He furrowed his brow, but didn’t even attempt the word.

“Okay, so we need something else,” Dante said. He looked thoughtful. “You know, I went by the name Tony for a while, to stay hidden. Maybe he can say that easier. What about it, kiddo? Tony?”

Nero furrowed his brow again, but didn’t speak. This was the same trouble Vergil had with the boy. He was reluctant to speak when he could avoid it.

Vergil took Nero back into his arms. “I cannot believe I’m about to ask my child to call you Tony.” He sighed. “Nero, can you say ‘Tony’?” Nero stared up at him. Vergil lifted Nero’s finger and pointed it at Dante. “Tony.”

Nero brightened a little, realizing that it was a title for his uncle and not just a random word. “Ooo-ny!”

“Close enough,” Vergil said.

“Hey!” Dante whined.

“This child is entirely reluctant to complete words. He is fully capable of making the ‘d’ sound, but refuses to say ‘bad’ or ‘dad’,” Vergil said. “Be glad he at least says most of the name.”

“What else can he say?” Dante asked.

Vergil stiffened. “Not much. Or, if he can say more, he chooses not to.”

“So, his father’s son,” Dante said, snickering at the look Vergil shot him. “C’mere, kid.”

He held his arms out and Nero went into them. Nero eyed Dante quizzically, pointing at him.

“Ony?” he said. 

“Sure, why not?” Dante pointed at himself. “Ony.” 

Nero seemed pleased to finally have something to call Dante. He pointed to each of them in turn. “Ony! Newo! Da!” 

Dante laughed. “How’s your pride feel knowing your own kid can’t pronounce a single name in this room correctly?” 

Vergil set aside his own frustrations with Nero’s vocabulary to shoot Dante a dirty look. “He’s not even two yet, Dante. He’s still learning. Don’t mock him.” 

“Hey, have you ever tried to get him to pronounce your name?” Dante said. 

“Why would I? I’m his father. He shouldn’t be calling me by my given name,” Vergil said.

“Yea, but it’d be funny to hear him try.”

“Dante!”

Dante grinned but didn’t press the issue. He leaned back in his chair, letting Nero play with the buttons on his coat.

“Will I ever get to know about his mother? Or about how you ended up a teen dad?” Dante said.

“No,” Vergil said. 

Dante’s amused grin flickered. “You really think his mother is dead?”

“Yes,” Vergil said. “No more questions about her, Dante.”

Something in his tone got through even Dante’s thick skull, because he let the topic drop. He didn’t, however, drop everything.

“So you still insist I’m the irresponsible one, but you knocked someone up at, what, 18? 19?” Dante said.

“Dante,” Vergil growled. 

“Just establishing your hypocrisy, brother,” Dante said innocently. “Anytime you tell me how irresponsible I am, I’m just going to hold this little guy up as a friendly reminder you’re not perfect either.”

“At least my…mistake…carries on the Sparda bloodline,” Vergil said, snatching Nero back from Dante. 

“Lucky little guy looks just like his uncle,” Dante said, playfully pinching Nero’s cheek. 

Vergil smacked his hand away. “Stop that, don’t pinch him. We’re identical twins, Dante.”

“And apparently only one of us got a sense of humor,” Dante said. 

Nero struggled to get down, so Vergil set him on the floor. Nero waddled on over to Dante’s desk, and the twins frowned at each other.

“Nero, come back here,” Vergil called. 

A moment later, Nero reappeared, carrying two wooden poles. Vergil knew Dante well enough to catch the brief, nervous shift he did in his chair.

“What does he have?” Vergil demanded.

Dante shrugged casually. “Must’ve left that behind my desk.”

Nero held one of the sticks out to Dante. Dante pushed it back towards Nero.

“Go put those back, Nero. It would be irresponsible to play with them, and I can’t drop down to your dad’s level,” he said.

Nero pouted and pushed the pole back at him. “Ah!” 

Dante sighed and took the pole, lying it across his lap. Nero smacked his pole against it, then pouted when Dante didn’t react.

He pointed at it indignantly. “Ony. Ah!” 

“Dante,” Vergil said, and Dante winced at how calm Vergil’s voice was. “Why does he want to play with them?”

“Okay- Listen-” Dante sheepishly picked up the pole. “I figured you’d rather he play with this than with the Yamato, which is what he wanted to do.”

Dante had been teaching his son how to swing a weapon. Vergil considered taking the pole from Nero, but knew it would just result in another temper tantrum.

“You were sleeping and the kid was bored,” Dante said, getting up and stretching. Nero was practically bouncing with excitement. “We didn’t play rough or anything. Right, Nero?” 

Nero swung his pole at Dante, who easily deflected the blow that would’ve otherwise taken out his knees. Nero giggled and swung again, hard enough that he accidentally tipped himself forward.

Vergil started to lunge forward to catch him, but Dante already had a hand on Nero’s arm, pulling him upright. Nero rewarded him with a whack to the ankle.

“He’s not great at the balancing thing,” Dante said, releasing Nero’s arm and hopping away. “Ow. He goes for the ankles a lot, though.” 

Vergil watched them play fight, trying to swallow down his jealousy. Nero was clearly having a blast playing with Dante, laughing so hard that he could barely swing sometimes. Anytime he lost his balance, Dante was quick to right him so they could keep going. He sacrificed his ankles several times to let Nero feel like he was winning. 

Nero finally sat down, face flushed from laughter. He was still giggling, but he reached out for a juice box.

Vergil handed him one, poking in the straw. Nero drank happily.

Dante sat down. “Woo, playing with him’s a workout all its own.”

“He can’t just play all the time. His development is behind,” Vergil said.

Dante waved his hand dismissively. “Kid’s gotta have fun. Right, Nero?”

Nero grabbed Dante’s pant leg to haul himself to his feet. He reached out his good arm expectantly.

Dante hoisted Nero into his lap. Vergil ignored his own jealousy as he watched his son curl up easily in Dante’s lap, letting out a big yawn.

Dante held the juice box steady as Nero drifted off to sleep in his lap, head nestled against Dante’s stomach. Nero managed to stick his thumb in his mouth before he truy fell asleep.

“Vergil,” Dante said, setting the juice box down. “I know you think I’m an absolute idiot.”

“That’s accurate, yes.”

Dante ignored that. “You escaped the Demon World, but you clearly didn’t make it through there unnoticed. You’re being hunted, aren’t you? That’s why you didn’t want to go out in public with Nero today.”

“I have everything under control. I have us in a safe location,” Vergil said, voice going cold. 

“Safe,” Dante scoffed. “You showed up here cut to ribbons with a blood-covered child in your arms.” 

“That was unrelated to the Demon World,” Vergil said. 

“Still, if they’re hunting you, let me help,” Dante said. He gestured to the sleeping child in his lap. “Let me help you protect him.”

“I don’t need your help,” Vergil said. “We have been managing fine. The demon attack will not happen again, because I will not put us in that situation again. We are in a secure, defensible location.”

“Vergil, why won’t you just let me help?” Dante said, sounding exasperated. “Do you really want to isolate the poor kid like this? What happens to him if something happens to you?”

No, Vergil didn’t want to isolate Nero. He wanted Nero to have a family. To have a parent who would always come for him when he called out for them. 

But swallowing his pride to allow Dante into both their lives felt like a monumental task. He knew, logically, it would be for the best. Dante could come keep an eye on Nero when Vergil needed to do chores. Nero would get to have a real family. Dante could help out while Vergil recovered from his injuries and worked his strength back up. Vergil could call Dante if they got in trouble again. 

“Vergil, you and I are probably never going to agree on anything ever again. Like, not a damn thing in this world, not even that the sky is blue or that we’re identical. Fine. So be it. But just this once, I think we can both agree we want to see Nero safe and happy,” Dante said.

He was uncharacteristically serious. Vergil almost wished he’d go back to being an idiotic jokester. 

“We don’t have to like each other. We just have to get along enough to keep him happy,” Dante said. “I will absolutely kick your ass again if you deserve it, by the way.”

“Don’t swear around my son,” Vergil said. He felt yet another victory slip from his hands into Dante’s. “I’ll have rules if you want to be in his life, and that’s one of them.”

Purely a logical decision. Dante being around would offer more protection for Nero, and allow Vergil to heal. Logical. Just logical.

He repeated it over and over again in his head, until it erased the memory of the last time they stood side-by-side and declared “Jackpot”. 

Dante’s eyes brightened like Nero’s did when he got what he wanted. “No promises on that one, but I’ll censor myself when I remember to.”

“I’m making a mistake,” Vergil announced. “I can already feel it.”

“Yea, but your last big mistake wasn’t so bad,” Dante said, waving Nero’s little hand at Vergil.

“Stop that. You’re going to wake him up,” Vergil said. Yep, definitely making a mistake. 

“Yea, yea. Get some rest. Maybe you’ll be less grumpy,” Dante said.

Vergil reached out to take Nero back. Dante rolled his eyes.

“Now who’s going to wake him up?” he said.

Vergil ignored that and pulled Nero into his arms, settling Nero at his side. Nero blinked sleepily at him before adjusting himself so his back was against Vergil’s chest, promptly falling back asleep. 

Vergil got himself as comfortable as he could without disturbing Nero. Dante was already leaning back in the chair, feet kicked up on the couch as he let his head hang back, eyes closed. 

Vergil ran a hand through Nero’s hair. He reminded himself firmly that he was doing this for Nero. He was trying to give Nero the things he had lacked in his own childhood.

Nero would have a family. He would have a parent who always protected him. Vergil ran his fingers along the bandage on Nero and promised himself he would not fail his son again. Even if that meant making partial amends with Dante, he was dedicated to Nero’s safety.

Chapter Text

When Vergil woke up, he felt a flare of panic. He had not even opened his eyes before realizing Nero was not curled up against his chest.

He sat up, so fast that the world spun a little. He gripped the edge of the couch for balance.

“Da?”

Relief crashed over him as he turned and saw Nero in Dante’s lap. He was watching Vergil curiously.

“How long has he been awake?” Vergil asked, reaching out and wiping a few crumbs off Nero’s cheek. “Clearly, he’s eaten.”

“You were dead to the world for a while, brother. Kid’s been up for hours,” Dante said. “We were taking a break after he kicked my a- uh, butt during a sword fight. Right, kiddo?”

Nero looked proud. He swung his juice box like a sword, sending drops of juice splashing against Vergil.

“Stop that. Don’t swing that around, Nero,” Vergil said. “It’s a drink, not a toy.”

Vergil got up and lifted Nero off Dante’s lap. Nero was messy, probably from playing with Dante all morning.

“I’m going to shower and then bathe him. Then, we should be leaving,” Vergil said.

He felt much better after all the sleep the past two days, loathe as he was to admit the benefits of having Dante around to help with Nero. Usually, Vergil had to constantly wake up to care for Nero. But playing with Dante had either tired Nero out enough to get him to sleep through the night, or Vergil was so exhausted he slept through Nero’s various nighttime adventures. 

He carried Nero into the bathroom, setting him down to finish his juice box while Vergil took a quick shower. He ran a bath for Nero and wrestled the boy in, resigning himself to being brutally splashed as Nero giggled and swatted water around. 

“My brother nearly killed me and I am tolerating him for your sake. The least you can do is not drown me,” Vergil said as Nero threw a wave of water over Vergil’s head as he moved in close to wash Nero’s hair. “Nero! Stop that.” 

Nero giggled and flicked more water at Vergil. Vergil flicked water right back at Nero, and Nero’s giggle turned into full-blown laughter.

They flicked water back and forth at each other for a bit, Nero laughing so hard that it finally dragged a small smile from Vergil. He was amazed that such simple things could make Nero so impossibly happy.

“Alright, let’s dry you off,” Vergil said, pulling Nero from the tub and wrapping him in a towel. Nero tried to bolt for the door, but Vergil caught him. “No. Two days with Dante is not enough for me to accept you’ve developed habits bad enough to go streaking naked through this place.”

He managed to claim his first victory in what felt like an eternity as he got a diaper on Nero. It was the best he was getting, but it was better than nothing. He abandoned the attempts to dry himself off and pulled Dante’s shirt back on, leaving the bathroom with Nero tucked in one arm.

Nero let out a little whine as Dante came up to them. He looked back and forth between the twins, reaching up and feeling along Vergil’s face.

“Da?” he said nervously.

“Yes, Nero. I’m your dad. You would know that if you hadn’t splashed water and ruined my hair,” Vergil said.

“Who bathed who?” Dante said with a whistle. “Nice going, kid. He looks like a drowned rat.”

“Dante.” Vergil glared.

“If we’re going to make this work, you can’t hide from me, Vergil. I need to know where you live, in case I need to come in an emergency,” Dante said.

He was right, but Vergil didn’t have to like it. He grumbled as he collected his few things.

“Just come back with us,” Vergil said, pulling out the Yamato. Nero squealed, reaching for the glowing blade. Vergil held it away from him.

“You’re so overdramatic. Do we really have to portal everywhere?” Dante said.

“Yes,” Vergil said, slashing the air before him.

Dante sighed heavily but gripped Vergil’s arm. Vergil stepped through with his brother and son, and they came to stand in the forest outside Fortuna.

Vergil picked up the bag he’d abandoned during the attack, mildly surprised it had survived. Dante was looking around, clearly trying to puzzle out where they were.

“Come,” Vergil said, pulling his robe from the bag and throwing it on. He flipped the hood up. “Keep your head down, Dante. The whole point is to not draw any attention.”

“That’s a…a look,” Dante said.

“I won’t be the one who stands out,” Vergil said, and led the way.

Dante trailed along after him. When they reached the city, he looked around curiously, earning a few suspicious glances in return.

Vergil was glad to reach his home, unlocking the door and pushing it open. Dante followed him in, kicking the door shut.

“How’d you afford this place?” Dante asked.

Vergil took the robe off and tossed it on the nearest chair. “We are in Fortuna. They are distrustful of outsiders, but desperate to keep their numbers in the Order of the Sword, the ruling religious organization here. Cult, really. I pretended I was a former follower returning to stay. I may have also hinted that my son and I would take up roles as Knights in the Order. They want people like that. They gave me just enough means to get me on my feet, and in return, they will expect my service.”

“And they’ll never get it,” Dante said, raising an eyebrow.

“Perhaps, if only for the practice,” Vergil said. 

Dante wandered about the small house, making a gagging noise as he stepped into the kitchen. “I don’t know whether to call CPS or just save time and light this place on fire.”

“I was too ill to clean his messes,” Vergil said, fighting down his embarrassment at the state of the kitchen. He reluctantly passed Nero to Dante. “Take him into the living room and entertain him while I clean this.”

Dante was more than happy to escape cleaning duty, as Vergil had predicated. Cleaning the mess was a challenge, and not just because of how long it had been sitting for. Vergil’s wounds had not healed yet, so bending over to clean quickly became agonizing on his back. He grit his teeth and pushed past the pain, determined to show he was capable of keeping his home clean on his own.

But the pain became so great that he stretched and shoved his arm in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and biting down on the sleeve. He breathed harshly through his nose, waiting for the pain to ease.

“Da?”

He opened his eyes and looked over at Nero. Nero was frowning, eyes shining with concern. He waddled over and put his hands on Vergil’s arm.

“Da? Da, hug?” he said insistently.

Vergil carefully shifted himself and pulled Nero into a hug. Nero put his little arms as far around Vergil’s neck as he could.

“Da sick?” he asked.

“No, Nero. Just hurt,” Vergil said, running a hand through Nero’s hair. “I’m fine. Go play with your uncle.”

Nero pointed to his bandaged arm, then to Vergil. “Da owww?”

“Yes, Nero. I have an injury, like you do,” Vergil said. 

Nero grabbed Vergil’s arm and tried to tug him out towards the living room. Vergil pried Nero’s hand off his arm.

“Nero, go play with your uncle,” he said. “I need to clean.”

Nero huffed and stomped a little foot, grabbing Vergil’s arm again. “Da, pay!”

“What?”

“Da, pay!”

Vergil sighed heavily. “‘Play’, Nero. Very different concepts.” He ruffled Nero’s hair. “Your speech is improving a bit, though. Good job. When you use your words, I know what you want.” 

“Pay?” he said, tugging Vergil’s arm again.

“I have to work,” Vergil said.

Dante poked his head into the kitchen. “Nero! What’s taking you so long?”

“Da pay,” Nero said, pointing at Vergil. 

“Your dad looks like he’s about to drop dead on the spot.” Dante came in and lifted Nero up, tossing him in the air a couple of times and grinning at the child’s giggles and Vergil’s scowl. “Wounds still not healing?”

“A bit,” Vergil said. 

“Hey,” Dante said, catching Nero and frowning. “Where’s his room?”

“He doesn’t have his own room. He shares mine. This is a small home,” Vergil said. He felt defensive. Yes, it was small, but it was shelter. “At least our electricity is still on.”

“Always need to take a shot when you have a chance,” Dante said with a sigh. “Well, where’s his crib? Or, uh, bed? I don’t know what he should be sleeping in at his age.”

Vergil bristled a little. “He…sleeps with me. In my bed.”

“Okay, so, that’s an easy way to develop a clingy kid,” Dante said. “The poor kid needs his own space. No wonder you’re not healing, either. Do you even sleep through the night?”

“No, but I saw to his absolute essentials with the money I had,” Vergil said tightly. “Even if it was my bed he was sleeping on, it was still a bed. I know how to prioritize, Dante.”

“He needs-”

“Food,” Vergil said, his tone sharp. “Food is my first priority. Shelter. Clothing. Diapers. Having his own bed is far down on the list of priorities so long as he has a bed to sleep on. Speaking of that bed, I need to wash the sheets. Out of my way.”

He forced his screaming back to straighten so he could storm past Dante. He went into the bedroom and shut the door, forcing himself to do it quietly instead of slamming it like a child.

He sat on the bed, putting his face in his hands and taking a deep breath. He was not perfect. He was not even really good at this. But he was trying. Hadn’t he met Nero’s basic, essential needs? Was it really so bad that Nero lacked his own bed?

And…a highchair…and toys…and more than a few articles of clothing…

No, no, those things could come with time. For now, Nero had what he needed to stay healthy. Even without toys, he kept entertained for the most part. Didn’t he?

There was a tiny knock on the door, and a frustrated huff as Nero no doubt realized he couldn’t open the door. Vergil got up and opened the door.

Nero waddled in. Vergil could see Dante lounging on the couch with one of Nero’s juice boxes.

Vergil shut the door and picked Nero up, sitting on the bed with him. He held Nero close, stroking his hair.

“I am trying, Nero,” he said quietly.

Nero looked up at him curiously. Vergil closed his eyes, unable to meet that innocent stare. 

This is what Dante always did to him. Made him feel so inadequate, regardless of how hard he’d been working. All this time later, and Dante still stole every possible victory from him and left him questioning himself. 

He felt a tiny hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes and Nero cocked his head to the side curiously.

“Da?” he said.

Vergil bent down and kissed Nero’s head. Nero was not perfect and he often failed at what he attempted, be it pronouncing a word or walking across a room without tripping. He had darkness in his past despite how short a life he’d lived. 

And yet, Vergil cared deeply for him.

Perhaps one did not have to be perfect to be worthwhile. 

“Would you like to help me, Nero?” Vergil said. 

Nero brightened and nodded. Vergil set him down and had Nero help him strip the bed. Nero toppled over onto his butt three times in the process, but rather than let it keep him down, Nero just giggled at his own failure and hauled himself upright to keep going.

Vergil gathered the sheet and blanket when they were done, holding his hand out to Nero. Nero took it and allowed himself to be led back out to the living room.

“Keep him busy while I clean,” Vergil said, giving Nero a light shove at Dante.

Dante waved the juice box at Nero. “Come on, kid.”

“He’s a child, not a dog,” Vergil said, stomping over and snatching the juice box from Dante, passing it to Nero. Nero grabbed it in a grip that announced he would not be letting it go until it was empty.

Dante frowned. “I was drinking that.”

“We must all make sacrifices for the good of the child,” Vergil said, and walked away from them. 

Dante’s playful tone and Nero’s laughter followed him as he left the room. He pushed his jealousy far back in the corner of his mind; it was his responsibility to make sure the house and his son were cared for. He didn’t have time to play right now. 

He reminded himself of that over and over. In the end, though, that jealousy crept back in as he worked to the sound of his brother making his son laugh.

Chapter Text

Vergil was exhausted by the time it was dark out. He’d entirely lost track of time, so it was surprising when Dante carried a fussy Nero in.

“Eat!” Nero demanded, smacking an angry fist against Dante’s shoulder. “Eat!”

Vergil caught his fist before he could hit again. “Nero, no hitting! No hitting.” He took Nero from Dante and sighed. “I don’t…have dinner here.”

“Little brother to the rescue again,” Dante said. “Are you going to flee Fortuna if I step out for ten minutes to get us something to eat?”

“After how long I just spent cleaning?” Vergil said, nearly insulted by the very idea.

“Fair point.” Dante ruffled Nero’s hair. “Back with food in a few minutes, kiddo. Try not to cannibalize your father while I’m gone. Or beat him to death, given your tendencies.”

He left and Vergil set Nero down, leaning against the counter. His body ached from all the moving around and he was ready to just crawl into bed without dinner.

“Eat!” Nero whined, tugging at Vergil’s shirt. “Eat!”

“He went to get food,” Vergil said. “We’ll eat soon. I promise.”

Nero sat down and began to cry. “Eat!”

Vergil rubbed his temples. He checked the time and realized he couldn’t even be that impatient, given Nero hadn’t eaten all day. If he and Dante had been playing this whole time, he might’ve not even noticed how hungry he was until they finally stopped. 

Vergil picked Nero up and let Nero cry against his shoulder. He had no words of comfort, because he was too tired to dredge them up. He just rubbed Nero’s back and listened hard for the sound of Dante’s return.

It was around fifteen minutes before Dante came back inside. He had a bag in his hand, shrugging helplessly at Vergil.

“I tried to grab what you got him at the store,” he said, tossing the bag on the counter. “I just grabbed subs for us.”

“I’ll shop tomorrow,” Vergil said. The thought of doing so was overwhelming, but needs must.

He set Nero down at the table and got him situated. As soon as Nero saw food, his tears dried up and he dug in. Vergil didn’t even bother to argue with him about his table manners. He supposed that was as close to an apology as Nero would get for the late meal. 

Vergil forced himself to eat the sub Dante had bought for him. When he’d finished, he hoisted Nero up onto his hip, looking at the absolute mess his son had made on the table and floor, and dropped the boy onto Dante’s lap.

He cleaned the mess, wondering how his mother and father had possibly retained any trace of sanity with two babies constantly making this kind of mess. Once it was cleaned, he took Nero from Dante.

“I’m going to bed,” he said. “You insisted on bothering me in my home. The couch is yours.”

Dante shrugged. “I sleep on my couch more than my bed most times. Doesn’t bother me. Night, kid.”

Nero gave a little wave to Dante. “Nigh’, Ony.”

Vergil glanced at Nero in surprise. Two new words in one day. Maybe there was hope for him.

He tried not to think too hard on how much time he’d spent getting Nero to say three words for his basic needs when the kid decided to have a verbal growth spurt unprompted around Dante. Instead, he promptly carried Nero to his room, setting Nero on the bed as he changed into something comfortable.

He laid down, holding his arm out. Nero scooted back against his chest and Vergil wrapped an arm around him.

He hesitated, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Nero’s hair. “Goodnight, Nero.”

“Nigh’, Da,” Nero said with a yawn, putting his thumb in his mouth. 

Despite how tired he felt, Vergil found that he could not sleep. He kept looking around the tiny bedroom, at the thin blanket pulled over him and Nero, at his son curled up against his chest. 

Maybe Dante was right. Vergil needed to stop moping about and whining about his injuries and actually get to work so he could build a better life for his son. 

He closed his eyes, focusing on every ache in his body. Whatever the damage he’d taken in the Demon World had done to him, this was getting ridiculous. He was a son of Sparda. He should be ashamed he’d let his injuries rule him for so long.

He slipped into an almost meditative state as he focused on his wounds, trying to will his body to heal itself. Perhaps the fragmentation of his mind during his time there had interrupted his usual abilities. He’d come to believe he was weak and going to die, and so his body believed it to be true and accepted the injuries.

A weak theory, perhaps, but he had none better for the moment. If he couldn’t sleep, this certainly couldn’t hurt. He couldn’t get up without risking waking Nero, so he might as well try to be productive. He healed fastest in his demonic form, and so he focused on the feel of that transformation, straddling the dangerously thin line between man and demon.  

He slipped so deeply into his own concentration that his whole body jerked when someone shook it. His eyes snapped open and he just barely managed to stop himself from shoving Nero off the bed out of sheer reactionary instinct.

Nero shook him again, as if assuring himself Vergil was up. “Da, fix. Fix!”

“Yes, alright,” Vergil said, sitting up. He paused for a moment, then stretched his body. He was still sore, but the wounds on his back felt considerably better.

He picked Nero up and left the bedroom. Dante was passed out on the couch, limbs sprawled along it. He looked one deep breath away from falling off the couch onto his face. Vergil left him to his fate, moving past to the bathroom.

He changed Nero’s diaper, then removed his own shirt and examined his wounds in the mirror. Triumphant was a rusty feeling these days and it took a long moment to rear its timid head.

The wounds were nearly healed. Vergil ran his fingers along the smooth skin left in the wounds’ wake.

He turned and knelt before Nero, taking his arm. Nero stuck his thumb in his mouth and let out a tired whine, but allowed Vergil to peek under his bandages.

“We’re both healing well, little one,” Vergil said, pleased. He picked Nero up, and the boy immediately nestled his head into Vergil’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Vergil rubbed his back. “If this keeps up, I can improve our living conditions. Soon, Nero. Very soon.”

He carried Nero back to bed. As Nero slept curled up against him, Vergil closed his eyes and focused on his wounds again, healing his body as well as his mind, a new purpose driving him.

***

Vergil woke to the sound of something shattering. He was out of bed and gripping the hilt of the Yamato before it registered that Nero was not in the bed with him.

He strode out of the room, Yamato in hand. He went into the kitchen, stared at his brother’s guilty smile, and did not lose his urge to stab someone.

Nero leapt out from behind Dante and reached for a piece of shattered glass on the floor. Dante hastily caught him by the back of the shirt and yanked him back.

“No, no, no. You get cut by that and I’ll get cut by that.” He nodded to the Yamato.

Vergil set it against the wall. “What happened?”

“Okay, so, turns out your son is actually part cat,” Dante said. “I mean, seriously, I set my drink on the counter and then I set the kid on the counter. And the next thing I know, he’s smacking the glass off the counter.”

Nero showed no shame for his actions. He reached his tiny arms hopelessly for the broken glass again.

“Make sure you get every single piece of that cleaned up, Dante,” Vergil said, his voice a warning. “If he cuts his foot on a piece, your throat is next.”

“Yea, yea, I’ve got it,” Dante said. “Take him, will you? We already ate breakfast.”

Vergil took Nero into his arms, carrying him into the living room. He set Nero down and Nero immediately picked up a pillow, hitting Vergil in the leg with it and giving him a mischievous grin.

“Dante,” Vergil called. “Did you teach him to have pillow fights?”

“Absolutely not. That would be highly irresponsible,” Dante called back.

“I’m going to kill him. Enjoy him while he’s still alive,” Vergil informed Nero. 

Nero just giggled and hit Vergil in the legs again, then leapt back and tripped over his own uncoordinated feet. He dropped the pillow as he fell, then whined at it like it had personally wronged him. 

Vergil picked Nero up and set him on his feet, taking the pillow away from him. “The last thing we need is to encourage your hitting habit.”

“Pay?” Nero said.

Vergil knelt before Nero. “Do you want to go out today? I have some errands to run. Would you like to come with me?” 

Nero refocused on the pillow. “Pay?”

Vergil sighed. “Dante? Are you done?”

Dante came into the room and snatched the pillow off the couch, bopping Nero in the head with it. “Oh! Too slow to dodge!” He waved away Vergil’s glare. “Yea, yea, glass is picked up.”

“Can you perhaps not encourage his habit of hitting people?” Vergil said.

Dante swung the pillow at Nero, who had started to run forward. The pillow struck him in the face, sending him toppling over. Dante and Vergil winced, waiting for the crying.

But Nero took it in stride, bouncing back up and tackling Dante’s legs with a noise that was half-giggle and half-battle cry. Dante pretended to fall onto the couch with an overdramatic cry of despair.

Nero climbed up to Dante’s chest, laughing as he tried to wrestle the pillow from Dante. Vergil tensed as he watched the two. Nero never seemed to have that kind of fun with Vergil.

No, it was because Vergil focused on the important things with Nero. Let Dante waste time playing like a fool. It kept Nero busy and happy, at least.

“Watch him. I’m going to shower,” Vergil said.

He showered and dressed himself, plans for the day already forming in his mind. Before he put his shirt on, he looked at his nearly faded wounds. 

He left the bathroom and went out to the living room. Nero was trying to catch his breath, face flushed but eyes bright. He was gripping a pillow, hiding behind an overturned chair from the kitchen.

Dante leapt at him, intending to bring his own pillow down on Nero’s head. Nero squealed, but Vergil effortlessly caught the blow.

Nero stuck his tongue out at Dante and dashed behind Vergil’s leg for protection. Dante pouted.

“That’s cheating,” he said to Nero. 

Nero stuck his tongue out again. Vergil shot Dante a look, because Nero had never done that before.

“Uh…I didn’t teach him that?” Dante said helplessly.

Vergil scooped Nero up. “I’m going to get him dressed. I need to shop and handle some errands today. I feel much better and my fever is gone. You may leave.”

“You may leave,” Dante mocked. “Nah, I like spending time with the kid. I’ll hang around another day or two.” He grinned and smacked Vergil on the shoulder. “A little more rest can’t hurt, right, brother?” 

Vergil glared, but he couldn’t deny that finally giving his body and mind time to rest had led to his healing finally speeding up to some semblance of normalcy. Perhaps another night of uninterrupted sleep would get his body fully back to normal. 

“Fine,” Vergil relented. “But if you go out with us, you have to wear a robe. Fortuna distrusts outsiders. You will draw unwanted attention to us.” 

Dante pointed a stern finger at Nero. “I am sacrificing my fashion choices for you, you little brat.”

“Fashion? Dante, you’re hardly wearing clothes,” Vergil said.

“Still,” Dante said.

Vergil decided it wasn’t worth his breath to argue. He picked Nero up and carried him to the bedroom, wrestling him into clothes. He packed a bag with some spare diapers, a couple of juice boxes, and a light snack for Nero.

He got a robe for Dante and the two pulled the hoods up and left the house. Nero clung to Vergil as they made their way down the street.

“We’re not going back to the forest, Nero. Nothing is going to hurt you,” Vergil assured him, holding him a little tighter. 

He led them to the open market to get fresh food. Nero slowly came out of his terrified shell at the smell of baked goods as they passed by a booth. Nero poked his nose in the air and sniffed, then tugged on Vergil’s robe.

“Eat?” he said.

“We’re going to buy food,” Vergil assured. 

Dante veered off towards the booth with baked goods. Vergil ignored his brother and carried on, getting them some fresh fruits and vegetables. Dante caught back up and handed Nero a cookie.

“Someone’s got to let you have real dessert every once in a while,” Dante said.

“Eat!” Nero said eagerly, biting into the cookie.

Vergil didn’t like Dante giving Nero food without asking, but he couldn’t deny that it smelled good and Nero was clearly enjoying it. “Nero, say thank you.”

Dante raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even say thank you, Vergil.”

“Hush. Nero, say thank you,” he repeated sternly.

Nero frowned. “Ah?”

“When someone gives you something like that, you say ‘thank you’. Manners,” Vergil said.

“‘Ank oooh?” Nero tried. 

“You’re welcome, kid,” Dante said, ruffling his hair. 

“His speech-”

“Vergil, he’s a baby,” Dante said, rolling his eyes. “His speech will get to normal people levels. He’s making progress.”

Vergil still hated to admit that Nero had become a little more verbal with Dante around. Possibly because Dante never shut up.

Vergil finished buying their groceries. He stopped in the store to get more diapers and a few other basic essentials. When he was done, he passed Nero and the shopping bags to Dante.

“Take him back to the house. I have one last stop to make at the library, and I can’t have him being loud in there,” Vergil said, which was a lie, but did its job. At the mention of a library, Dante was all too happy to take Nero and beat a hasty retreat to the house.

With them out of the way, Vergil made his way to the cathedral. He entered the building, unsurprised to find a few worshippers praying silently. He sneered at them before moving along the rows of benches. Fools. Sparda was not listening to their prayers. 

He found one of the Knights sitting quietly and took a seat next to him. The Knight glanced at him, curious but not closed-off.

Vergil hated pretending to be weaker than any of these pathetic humans, but he thought of his small, dirty home and his small, smiling son, and swallowed his pride. Needs must. 

“My son and I were attacked by demons in the forest the other day,” Vergil said.

“I heard about the demon attack. We sent some men out. They’ve been moving closer to the city,” the Knight said. “Were you or your son injured?”

“Mildly. I managed to kill enough to create a gap for us to escape,” Vergil said.

The Knight seemed a little impressed. “You killed some?”

“Yes. My father trained me how to use a sword since I was a child,” Vergil said. “I suffered an- illness, recently, that I am still recovering from. But I can monitor the woods and kill off small clusters of demons that get too close.” Needs must, needs must, do it for Nero. “I am not well enough to join the Knights, as I’d hoped to. But I am well enough to protect our city, for the glory of Sparda and the good of his loyal worshippers.”

The Knight seemed to consider. Vergil knew he didn’t look like much; he didn’t project the broad, brainless brawn of Dante. Still recovering, he looked pale, and had lost a lot of weight during his time in the Demon World.

“I can prove my abilities,” he said, before the Knight could think to reject his offer. “All I ask in return for loyal service is compensation for each incident. When I am well enough, I will join the Knights in service, and when my son is old enough, he will too.” Vergil couldn’t bring himself to bow his head - he’d already sacrificed a lot of pride in this conversation - but he did cast his gaze down in an imitation of respect. “I wish this to be a safe place for him to grow up. We are devout to Sparda.”

That seemed to please the Knight enough. “Well, it can’t hurt to see what you can do, at least. Come on.”

Vergil followed him out to a training area. The Knight grabbed a sword and let Vergil choose his own.

Vergil grabbed one that wasn’t as bulky as the majority of the blades. He tested it in his hands, giving a few practice slashes and swings to get a feel for it. 

The Knight had shrugged out of his robe, so Vergil copied. They faced each other, blades raised.

“This is just to see what you can do,” the Knight reminded. “No going overboard with it. I’d rather no one gets hurt.”

“Of course,” Vergil said.

They burst into action, swords clashing. The Knight was clearly taking it easy on Vergil, but was surprised by Vergil’s strength and speed.

Vergil knew his speed was his true advantage in a fight. He pushed all thoughts out of his mind and focused only on the battle, only on what his opponent would do next and how he should move to counter and strike. 

Even in his current state, he could’ve managed to kill this human pretty easily. The Knight was strong, but not particularly quick. He was well-trained enough not to leave any noticeable gaps in his defense, but Vergil saw the small mistakes and took advantage of them, getting inside the man’s guard and pushing him back.

He parried and slashed and dodged. He let the fight drag on longer than he would’ve liked, if only to demonstrate his skill with a sword. When he tired of the fight, he waited for his opportunity, then came in fast and brought his blade up to the man’s throat.

“I expect this was a sufficient demonstration?” he asked.

The man was clearly surprised. Vergil lowered his blade, and the Knight let out a whistle.

“You have impressive skills,” he said. “The Knights could use that talent. You’d be a great asset.” 

Vergil shook his head. “I cannot in my current state. Constant work would hinder my recovery. But I can do occasional jobs until I’m well enough to join.”

He had no true intention of joining the Knights, except perhaps for practice and deeper cover in Fortuna. But he wasn’t lying; he wasn’t well enough to do it right now. 

“Well, I certainly think we can arrange something. We can treat it as training for when you join the Knights, and compensate you fairly,” the Knight said. “How old is your son?”

“Not yet two,” Vergil said. “It will be a while before he can join. But I will train him as he grows.”

“When he’s old enough, we’ll be happy to help in his training,” the man said. “For now, we’ll work out the details with you. We could use the extra help monitoring the forest. Hey, what’s your name?”

He pulled his robe back on, hiding his face with the hood once more. He did not fully feel himself anymore- Vergil was the man who would claim the strength of Sparda.

Who he was now was…less. Not quite himself, but not too far off, either. 

“V,” he said after a moment. “Just call me V.”

Chapter Text

Things began to change, and Vergil hoped it was for the better.

Nero was a crying mess when Dante finally left (though with a very pointed promise to return soon). Even a couple days after his departure, Nero would search the house and then cry when he couldn’t find his uncle.

Vergil tried not to let it bother him too much. He met with Knights several more times and established an agreement with them; he would monitor the forest and deal with threats that came too close to Fortuna. If he came across a threat too large for him to handle, he was to immediately call for reinforcements. He was to report every incident in as much detail as he could, and he would be compensated for his time and effort. 

In addition, he agreed to relocate to the edge of the city to better carry out his duties. This took him into a slightly larger home, but Nero loved the view of the forest out of one of the windows. 

It also raised the problem of childcare. Vergil had no one to watch Nero, and trusted none of the residents of Fortuna with his son. He couldn’t bring Nero with him, not after last time. 

It was not quite the best solution, but Vergil invested in a baby gate and thoroughly baby-proofed his bedroom. When he spotted approaching demons, he’d stick Nero in the room and head out to deal with it. 

After a few times of this method, he begrudgingly accepted he’d have to bring Dante back to babysit. Nero cried every time Vergil left him in there, probably remembering his little playpen prison at the orphanage. The guilt of making him relive that kind of memory was getting to be too much, even for Vergil.

Still, he was paid well for his work. Well enough that he could finally buy some toys, clothes, a nightlight, a highchair, and a crib for Nero. 

Tonight was night one of the crib. He set it up in his room, reluctant to have Nero out of his sight. He doubted Nero would like sleeping alone, anyway.

He got Nero ready for bed and picked him up, carrying him to the crib. He set Nero in it, tucked him in, and smoothed back his hair.

“Goodnight, Nero,” he said. 

He laid on his own bed, turning off the main lights and leaving the nightlight on for Nero. He had just rolled over and closed his eyes when he heard Nero’s voice.

“Da?”

Nero smacked his hands against the bars of the crib. “Da? No! No! Da!”

Vergil sighed and rolled back over to face Nero. “Nero, I’m right here. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Nero pulled himself so he was standing, trying to reach his hand over the bar for Vergil. Tears were gathering in his eyes.

“Da!” he whimpered. He gripped a bar with his free hand and tried to shake it. “Da, bed. Bed?”

“That’s your bed, Nero. This is my bed, and that’s your bed,” he said. He missed the feel of Nero against his chest, but he had to break Nero’s habit of sleeping with him, hard as it would be to do.

“No,” Nero whimpered. “No, no. Da- bed!” 

Vergil got up and urged Nero to lie back down in his crib. “This is your bed, Nero. You sleep here. I’m right next to you.”

Nero pushed himself back up in alarm when he saw Vergil walking away. “No! No, Da! Newo bed.” Nero pointed desperately at Vergil’s bed. 

“No, Nero. You stay in your bed,” Vergil said. “You can’t sleep with me in my bed.”

“Newo…seep? Newo seep wiv Da?” Nero sniffled. 

“Stop that,” Vergil said, because he was having a confusing mix of pride at Nero’s expanding vocabulary and despair at his reluctance to be away from Vergil.

Nero began to cry in earnest, abandoning words in favor of loud sobs as he tried to pull himself from the crib. When he failed at that, he stuck his hands through the bars and reached hopelessly for Vergil.

Vergil watched this display for about two minutes before deciding they had to start small. He picked Nero up from the crib, and Nero immediately clung to him, crying into his shoulder and hanging on with a grip that promised Vergil wasn’t getting him back in that crib tonight.

Fine. He’d have Nero sleep in there for his naps, instead. Eventually, it would take. 

“Shhh, Nero,” he said, stroking the boy’s hair. He sat on the bed, holding Nero to his chest. “It’s alright. You can sleep with me tonight. Nero, there’s no need to cry.”

At a loss for what else to do, he grabbed a poetry book and flipped it open to a random page. He sat against the pillows, pulling the covers over himself and Nero.

“I was angry with my friend;/I told my wrath, my wrath did end/I was angry with my foe:/I told it not, my wrath did grow,” Vergil read, his voice steady.

Nero sniffled and picked his head up. He curled into Vergil’s chest and held his finger out. Vergil took it and guided it along the words.

“And I watered it in fears,/Night and morning with my tears,” Vergil continued.

Nero calmed down as Vergil read through the poem. When he finished, he flipped the page and read another poem, his voice seeming to lull Nero to sleep.

Nero pulled his hand away so he could stick his thumb in his mouth, nestling his head into Vergil’s neck as he fell asleep. Vergil set the book down and held Nero close, stroking his hair. 

Vergil glanced at the crib. Perhaps someday they’d both be ready for that, but tonight, he held his son to himself and slept. 

***

“Apple,” Vergil said.

Nero reached for the fruit, but Vergil held it away from him and waited expectantly. Nero pouted.

“A…A…” Nero made a jumble of sounds that, in the absolute vaguest way, potentially resembled the word “apple”. Vergil rewarded him for the attempt by allowing him to take the fruit. 

Nero happily bit into it and Vergil walked along the market. The crib was…not going particularly well, but Nero’s speech was starting to improve, at least. He was attempting more words.

Vergil finally felt like he had some sense of control back. He still spent the bulk of his days cleaning and trying to keep Nero under control - or as much control as he could manage with the child. 

And fighting demons again, even weak ones, made him feel more like himself than he had since losing to Dante. He was still struggling with what to do with Nero when he went out to fight, but he was slowly building his strength back up now.

“Da, want,” Nero said, pointing at a plate of cookies one vendor was selling.

“Eat your apple,” Vergil said.

Nero opened his mouth to argue. Vergil put a finger over Nero’s mouth.

“Arguing won’t get you what you want. Use your manners,” Vergil said.

“Want. Peas?” he said, pointing again.

“Please,” Vergil corrected, but headed for the vendor. “You can have one after you finish your apple.” 

He paid for the cookie and wrapped it in a napkin, putting it in a bag with his other groceries. He carried Nero to an open area with benches, sitting down to let Nero eat and enjoy the fresh air. 

Vergil felt…content. He had not felt so in such a long time that it was strange. It put him on edge, waiting for something to go wrong. It always went wrong in the end. 

He looked down at Nero. Maybe…things would be different this time. Maybe things wouldn’t go wrong. Maybe he’d get to stay hidden away in Fortuna, building a life for his son. 

He didn’t let himself bask in the thought of it for long. Better to expect the worst and avoid disappointment.

He uncapped a water bottle and drank his fill before offering it to Nero, well aware by now that his child was prone to backwashing. Sharing drinks with him always meant Vergil went first and Nero got to have the rest. Vergil was not squeamish, but he was easily disgusted and the thought of drinking his son’s partially chewed food was just a step too far most days.

Nero drank the water, managing to spill a little down his shirt. Vergil used the sleeve of his robe to clean it off Nero’s chin and pat his shirt down. 

Nero looked from Vergil’s sleeve back to the water bottle. He got a mischievous grin, and Vergil was just a second too slow to stop Nero from purposefully spilling a little more water down his shirt.

“Stop that,” Vergil said sternly, taking the water bottle from him. “I know it’s hot out, Nero, but this is ridiculous.” 

Nero put a hand over his mouth to try and hide his giggling, but it burst forth regardless. Vergil sighed and pat at Nero with his sleeve again.

Still, he always did struggle to stay mad at Nero when he got laughing like that. It amazed Vergil that a boy who had been through what he had could be so happy. Nero might be prone to temper tantrums and crying fits, but he was also so easily overjoyed by simple things. 

Vergil’s lips twitched and he fought a smile. He could at least try not to encourage this behavior. It would be a nightmare if Nero learned how disarming his laughter was. 

“Vergil!”

Vergil had his arm around Nero in an instant, protective. He glared up at Dante, who was, thankfully, robed.

“Dante,” Vergil said coolly. 

Dante gave him a surprisingly dirty look. “You seriously tried to hide him from me?”

“What are you going on about?” Vergil said.

“I’ve been trying to find you. I went to the house, and it’s empty,” Dante said.

Vergil scoffed. “I was not hiding from you. We moved.”

“And you conveniently didn’t tell me,” Dante said.

Vergil opened his mouth to reply, but Nero squirmed in his arms. His eyes were wide with excitement as he reached his little arms out.

“Ony!” he cried.

“Hey, kid!” Dante said, reaching for him.

Vergil held him away. Nero whined and shoved at Vergil’s arms. 

Vergil reluctantly passed Nero over to Dante. Nero squealed in joy, throwing his arms around Dante’s neck.

“Ony!” he said happily.

“Sorry it’s been a bit, kid,” Dante said. “Work to do. You know how it goes.”

Nero’s excited exclamations were drawing glances from the people walking by. Vergil stood up.

He’d been hoping to avoid this, but he’d yet to find a better solution. And, much as he hated it, Nero did adore Dante.

Just like everyone else. 

“Come. I’ll show you where we live now,” Vergil said. He did not bother holding out his arms to take Nero back; the child was perfectly happy in Dante’s arms.

The whole walk back, Nero and Dante teased each other. Dante tickled and tossed Nero, earning louder and louder laughter from him. Vergil was relieved to get inside the house and see Dante set Nero down.

“So you’ve upgraded,” Dante said, striding into the living room and throwing himself on the couch. Nero scurried over and Dante lifted the boy into his lap.

“I’ve been doing demon extermination work, in exchange for compensation from the Order,” Vergil said. “However, I have no one to watch Nero. If you watch him for me, I can take bigger jobs and get better pay.”

Dante frowned. “Wait, if you’ve been doing this long enough to get yourself a new house, who’s been watching him while you’re out?”

Vergil did not want to admit this, but he had no choice. He pointed at the bedroom.

“I made sure there was nothing in there he could hurt himself with, and gate him in there. I’m never gone long,” Vergil said.

Dante’s eyebrows shot up. “He’s not even two, and you leave him home alone while you go hunt demons? And you say I’m irresponsible.”

Vergil bristled. “I am not irresponsib-”

Dante slowly lifted the baby.

Vergil pressed his lips together tightly. He glared at Dante, considered stabbing him again, and decided against it only on the practical basis that he’d already had to throw out one set of Nero’s clothes thanks to bloodstains this month.

Nero, clearly confused as to why he was suddenly lifted, whined and squirmed. His thrashing foot caught Dante in the mouth; Vergil supposed he’d take what karma he could get. 

“Ow! Alright, sorry, just had to remind your dad even he makes mistakes,” Dante said, lowering Nero back into his lap. 

“No uh!” Nero said, glaring at Dante and smacking his arm.

“No up,” Vergil translated at Dante’s confused look. “Nero, stop that. Don’t hit.” 

Dante grinned and lifted Nero up. Nero whined and began to struggle again, but Dante was smart enough to keep Nero out of kick-in-the-face range this time.

“Dante, stop tormenting him,” Vergil said. “We were having a discussion. Put him down.” 

Dante set Nero down again. Nero huffed in displeasure.

“Stah da’!” he whined when Dante moved to grab him again.

Dante and Vergil both paused and shared a look. Vergil hoped he wasn’t blushing.

“Someone is parroting his dad now,” Dante said, ruffling Nero’s hair. “Don’t get into that habit, buddy. You’ll sound like a boring old scholar.”

“Better than the vulgar moron you are,” Vergil said. “Now, will you help me with him or not? Demonic activity in the area has increased. I would assume the tear I came through is where they came through as well. But it is possible there have been other, smaller tears. Fortuna has more demonic activity than most places.”

“So, what, I just babysit him all day while you go hunt demons?” Dante said.

Vergil shook his head. “A couple of days, perhaps. A few big jobs will set us financially for a bit.”

He did not add that he wanted to investigate where the demons were coming from. He hoped it was a small tear that a larger demon couldn’t get through, but he wanted to be sure. If he admitted that to Dante, though, his insufferable brother would force himself into the investigation. 

“I will, if you can answer one question for me,” Dante said.

“That depends on what you ask me, brother,” Vergil said, cautious now. Dante was not the type to deal in information like this. What could he possibly want to know from Vergil?

“Why didn’t you try to find a way to use the Yamato to escape the Demon World?” Dante asked.

Vergil stiffened. Of course he’d thought about it. After how badly he was injured in the battle against Mundus, he’d considered fleeing back to the human world and hiding to heal his injuries.

But he…

Shame. He could hide the truth from Dante, but not from himself. He had been ashamed after suffering so many defeats, so quickly. He could not overpower his brother, nor Mundus. He did not have the strength he’d so bitterly chased. There was nothing for him in the Demon World, nor the human, nor any world, he’d become convinced.

He’d expected to stay. To fight. To die.

When he saw the gap between worlds, he had not thought. He had just found a last burst of stubborn willpower, and escaped.

Now he had something to live for though. Maybe that reason was happier with Dante. But Nero was his son, his responsibility. He could not give up and die in battle now. 

“It is not so simple to escape, and you know that,” Vergil said, deciding to be evasive while still maintaining honesty. “I was injured and weakened.”

Dante clearly didn’t buy that as the whole story, but he scooped Nero into his arms and tickled him until he was gasping with laughter. “Well, guess I can’t say no to watching my favorite nephew, right, kid?” 

“Ony!” Nero gasped out, trying to shove Dante’s hands away from him.

“Let him breathe, Dante,” Vergil said. He fixed Dante with a look. “If he picks up a single one of your bad habits, that’s it for you.”

“Hear that, buddy? Your dad doesn’t have safe sex, but I’m the one with bad habits,” Dante said to Nero.

“Dante!” Vergil said, storming over and pulling Nero into his arms. “Will you let that go already? And don’t be talking about inappropriate topics in front of him. Even if he doesn’t understand what you’re saying, he’s started to pick up and mimic speech more frequently.”

This was a bad idea. It was a horrendous idea. He would leave Nero alone with Dante for just a day or two and his son would end up running around with no shirt on, speaking in vulgarities, and acting like the world’s biggest moron. 

But Vergil needed to investigate, and he needed to secure the money the jobs would bring in case he was injured and needed money to fall back on. He couldn’t have Nero with him for either task, nor could he leave the child alone for that long. 

“Chill Vergil, I’m just…not entirely kidding, actually,” Dante said. Nero was reaching for him again, so he held his arms out expectantly.

Vergil handed Nero back over. “I mean it, Dante. No swearing in front of him. No inappropriate topics. You keep your guns and any other real weapons far away from him. He eats the food I buy for him, not the junk you fill yourself with.” A thought struck him, a bit of mixed inspiration and punishment for Dante. “And he’s napping in his crib now. You don’t let him out, even if he cries. He needs to learn.”

Well, maybe he could get some use out of his brother. Nero cried and screamed whenever Vergil put him down for a nap in the crib, but perhaps he could make that bit of training Dante’s problem. Much as Vergil prided himself on his resolve, he didn’t quite have it in him to endure hearing Nero begging for Vergil to let him out as if he’d been cruelly imprisoned. 

“You got your own crib?” Dante asked Nero, grinning. “No more slumming it with your old man, huh?”

Nero made a face, having picked up on the word “crib” quickly. Seeing the rising tantrum that seemed to be an instant reaction to the word, Vergil shook his head.

“Nero, no crib,” he said. “Just remember what I said, Dante. He stays in there.”

“Sure, sure. Gotta tire him out first,” Dante said.

“Not tonight,” Vergil said. “Tomorrow you’ll be watching him while I go out.”

“Pay?” Nero said, pointing at himself. “Newo pay wiv Ony?”

Vergil wanted nothing less. “Yes, alright.”

Nero cheered. Vergil left Nero and Dante to it as he went to put the groceries away. At the very least, he could get some chores done while Dante entertained Nero. 

And tomorrow, he could practice his skills and investigate. Because if these gaps weren’t a coincidence and something was trying to get through to the human world in search of Vergil, he would find out and put a stop to it. No demon was going to hurt his son ever again.

Chapter Text

Vergil saw to it that Nero was fed a proper breakfast the next morning. He left Nero playing with some of his toys in the living room to go get dressed.

When he came back out, Dante had joined Nero on the floor. Nero looked up at Vergil and beamed a smile, holding up an action figure he’d picked out himself at the store.

“Da, pay!” he said, waving Vergil over.

Vergil went and knelt beside Nero, smoothing back his messy hair. “I have to do some work today, Nero. You’ll stay here with your uncle.”

Nero frowned. “No Da?”

“No,” Vergil said, shaking his head. “Not for most of the day. I’ll be back. Behave while I’m gone. And don’t let your uncle influence you.”

“We’ll have a good day. Right, buddy?” Dante said, snatching Nero into his arms and tossing him in the air. Nero let out an excited yelp and laughed as Dante caught him and tossed him back up.

“If you ever drop him, I will break your hands,” Vergil said calmly, standing back up.

Dante grinned and tossed Nero up higher, giving Vergil a mild heart attack until the boy was safely back in Dante’s arms. Vergil refused to visibly react to the throw though, knowing it would only encourage Dante.

Instead, he turned and left the house, heading for the forest. He carried the Yamato, enjoying the feel of it in his hand.

His strength still wasn’t fully back, but he would keep fighting until he was better than before he went to the Demon World. He’d already decided to begin training Nero once his dexterity was a little steadier. The sooner, the better. Nero needed to be able to protect himself in case trouble ever found him when he wasn’t with Vergil.

Nero had yet to show any significant demonic heritage aside from his healing, but it was possible it either hadn’t manifested yet, or there hadn’t been a situation to show itself. Vergil still wouldn’t know about Nero’s quick healing if it hadn’t been for the attack. He supposed that was why the child seemed to never have cuts or bruises from his various falls. 

Still, that healing gave Vergil hope that Nero had inherited more from his father than just his appearance. He had Sparda’s blood in his veins, and he would be a worthy descendent of Sparda.

Vergil shook off his thoughts as he traveled deeper into the forest, trying to recall from his vague memories where he had emerged from when he returned to this world. Without having to worry about getting back to Nero, he could take time to explore the forest and venture farther into it.

He came across two clusters of demons, one containing only four demons and another fairly large cluster. He took down both without much fuss. Being caught off-guard, being weakened and injured, and having to protect Nero had significantly hurt his ability to fight back before, but now he was ready, healed, and only had his own back to watch. 

It took him a while, but he found the spot he’d come through. He found no trace of a gap between the worlds, though.

Fortuna was a place that had an unhealthy obsession with demons. Someone might’ve opened a tear somewhere else. Most portals between worlds were too small for anything truly dangerous to get through; these demons were only problematic for the city because they were numerous and the average citizen was quickly cut down by the blades on the demons’ bodies. 

Still, there were more than usual. The Order was worried about some slipping through into the city because they weren’t used to containing so many at once. This was uncommon.

What was causing it?

Vergil dove deeper into the forest, concentrating to pick up any sign of the Demon World. He’d been in it long enough that he felt confident he’d recognize the traces of power it exuded. 

He did find a fairly large gathering of demons, running out at them before they could spot him. He managed to destroy four of them before they had a chance to fight back. 

He felt calm and in control of himself again, relying on his speed to dodge and counter attacks. He was hyper aware of his own defensive gaps, and the pauses between certain attacks as he regained his balance or adjusted his grip. Those were the weaknesses Dante had taken advantage of in their last fight.

And then his mind flashed back to that fight, and his concentration wavered.

He had only just started to remember Dante’s outstretched hand as he fell, when a sharp pain struck across his chest. A second sharp pain slashed its way along his stomach, and Vergil fell unsteadily to one knee.

 He raised the Yamato and stopped one incoming blow, but opened himself up to another gash in his side. Blood was soaking through his shirt at an alarming rate.

Vergil pushed himself to his feet and launched forward at the demons, pushing Dante from his mind. Instead, he took a brief glance at his blood, thought of Nero’s frightened cries and bloodied arm, and refocused on the battle.

He had to kill these demons. His son lived in Fortuna now. He had to destroy them before they reached the city.

And he did. He tore each of them to shreds with precise slashes of his blade, driven by a cold determination rather than a bitter anger. He suffered only two more blows in his meticulous slaughter before the mess was over and he stood alone in the forest.

He looked down at his wounds, already starting to heal. He sheathed the Yamato and turned back for the city, walking at as swift a pace as he could manage.

He had found no sign of a portal the demons could be slipping in. Wandering around made him realize how futile the effort was. He was better off returning to the Order and pulling data to see if he could pinpoint when and where the increase in activity started. He could compare records to the Order’s activity and see if he noticed a pattern. If some fool had caused this, Vergil would put a stop to them before they could make matters worse. 

His wounds had practically healed when he reached the house, his mind planning how best to go about the next task. He would need to return to the cathedral and have a reason for wanting to see the records. Perhaps a version of the truth would be best; he was tracking the demonic activity to see if he could identify spots where they were more likely to be gathered so he could-

“Da!”

Nero’s voice was distressed. Vergil snapped out of his thoughts, confused at first before remembering he was soaked in blood. His wounds might’ve healed, but that didn’t magically clean his clothes. 

“No! No!” Nero wailed, burying his face into Dante’s shirt in terror, his little body trembling.

“Good going, brother,” Dante said, putting an arm around Nero. 

“I had my mind on other things. My wounds are healed, so I…didn’t think about the blood,” Vergil said stiffly. “Calm him. I’ll be back.”

He hurried to the bathroom, stripping out of his shirt and pants. He hastily cleaned the blood off himself with a washcloth, grabbed a pair of pants out of the hamper, and pulled them on. He went back downstairs, where Nero was crying in Dante’s arms.

“Nero,” he said.

Nero lifted his head and flinched back, as if expecting to see Vergil still covered in blood. Vergil knelt before Nero and held his arms out.

“Hug, Nero?” he said.

Nero threw himself into Vergil’s arms, his body still trembling. Vergil held him tightly, running his hand through Nero’s hair.

“I am alright, Nero,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“Da?” Nero whimpered. “Da hurt?”

“No. No, I’m not hurt. I’m fine. I promise,” Vergil said, resting his cheek against Nero’s hair. “I am safe, and so are you.” 

“Safe?” Nero said, voice choked by tears.

Vergil pulled Nero closer to him. “Yes, Nero. Safe.” 

He held Nero until the boy had settled. Nero pulled back and placed his hands on Vergil’s face, inspecting him. He dropped his hands to Vergil’s chest, where a little blood he’d missed had dried. Nero took a moment to assure himself Vergil wasn’t hurt before his shoulders relaxed.

Vergil stared at his son in amazement. That concern in Nero’s eyes…

Vergil had not felt loved in years. He’d forgotten what it was like. 

“Aww, Vergil, who knew you were such a softy for kids?” Dante said.

Vergil glared. Leave it to Dante to ruin a moment.

“He’s a frightened child,” Vergil said. “He needed to be soothed.” 

“Sure, sure,” Dante said, getting up and stretching. He slapped Vergil on the shoulder as he passed him. “It’s okay to love your kid, Vergil.”

He left the room, heading for the kitchen. Vergil sat there, holding Nero in his lap.

He had not really considered such a thing. He looked down at Nero.

His mother had told the twins she loved them often. His father, though not as openly vocal with his affections, had shown his love through actions rather than words.

Still, had anyone ever told Nero he was loved?

Vergil opened his mouth. Then he closed it and just hugged the child to himself again.

Vergil was his father’s son. He just hoped Nero would understand that.

When Dante returned to the room with a glass of water, Vergil stood up with Nero in his arms. He carried Nero over, setting him down on the couch next to Dante.

“Da?” Nero said curiously.

“I have work to do, Nero,” Vergil said. 

“Working with no shirt on? So unprofessional,” Dante chided, patting the strap across his chest he seemed to think counted as clothing.

Vergil chose to walk away rather than commit murder and further traumatize his child. He grabbed clean clothes out of his room and went to the bathroom to shower. He dressed and fixed his hair before heading back out to the living room.

He was unsurprised to find Nero and Dante having a pillow fight. Dante noticed him walking in and showed no shame as he promptly whacked Nero in the gut with a pillow.

“Oof!” Nero fell down and scowled up at Dante. “No! Ba’ Ony!” 

“Aw, don’t be a sore loser like your dad,” Dante said, lifting the kid and setting him back on his feet. “You took the hit like a champ.” 

Nero huffed but raised his pillow, charging right back into the battle. He was brave, there was no denying that. Or foolishly stubborn. Vergil tried not to think too hard on where he would’ve possibly picked up that trait from. 

“I’m leaving. Nero, be good. Dante, don’t forget to put him down for a nap,” Vergil said, grabbing the Yamato.

He left the house, flipping up the hood of his robe as he walked along the streets. He went to the cathedral, striding inside towards the back room. There was an area in the back dedicated to the Knights; the records of demonic activity would be kept there, where they couldn’t be found and cause a panic in the general public. 

“V?” one of the Knights said as Vergil let himself into the room. He had not bothered to learn any of their names, but recognized this one.

“There was a large group of demons in the forest that I dispatched, and several smaller ones,” he said, heading for the shelf with the records on it. “I wish to study the activity to see if I can predict where they’ll gather next. Best to take out the larger groups before they head for the city.” 

“Be sure to record it. We’ll submit it for compensation,” the Knight said, then turned back to his own work.

Vergil was more than happy to be left alone. He took time to write down meticulous reports of the demons he’d slayed earlier so he could be paid, then returned to the reports.

He studied them carefully, grabbing spare paper and a map of the forest to help himself draw it out. He carefully plotted out each sighting, labeling each with how many demons had been spotted and how many had been killed. 

He detected a few weak patterns, but nothing that seemed to indicate a large gap they were slipping through to enter this world. Likely, wherever they were coming from was too deep in the forest for it to be noticed. By the time they spread out, moved closer to Fortuna, and were spotted, it was too late to make a reliable pattern to lead back to their point of origin.

Still, Vergil persisted. He drew potential routes they could’ve traveled, studying terrain and trying to find the easiest paths to take. He backtracked from the sightings, drawing out trails and trying to find a spot where they might tie together. 

He kept at it diligently, working and reworking his own theories. It was only when his vision started to blur while staring at his work that he realized how long he’d been at it for, and how late it was.

He stretched and gathered his papers. He had some spots he could go in to investigate. It was better than going in and blindly searching around again, even if it wasn’t a solid lead.

He left the cathedral, stepping out into the dark of night. It was silent along the streets and he walked slowly, remembering his trip here a few years ago.

And that woman-

He shook the thoughts from his mind. It didn’t matter; it was just him and Nero here now. 

The house was uncharacteristically quiet as he went inside. He dreaded going into the living room and finding his son curled up with Dante.

But when he went out to the living room, Dante was fast asleep on the couch while Nero slept on the floor. He had a blanket draped over him, meaning he’d probably passed out there long before Dante fell asleep.

Vergil set his things down in a safe place, out of reach of Nero. He dressed for bed and went back out to the living room, scooping Nero into his arms.

Nero shifted a little, nuzzling his head against Vergil’s shoulder. Vergil carried him to bed, letting Nero curl back against his chest.

Vergil kissed Nero’s head, tugging the blanket up so they were both covered. He would continue to pursue this rise in demonic activity until he had found the source of it. And once he found the source, he’d destroy it for good. 

Fortuna was his son’s home. He would keep it safe. He would protect Nero. 

Perhaps he could not bring himself to say the words to express his feelings towards his son. But his actions would speak volumes and leave no doubt as to how Vergil felt.

Chapter Text

It was a nice day outside, and Nero was standing at the window, little hands pressed to the glass as he peered outside longingly.

“He wants to go play,” Dante said, as if Vergil hadn’t already picked up on that.

“It’s too dangerous to go in the forest. You can take him to the market for a walk, or have lunch outside,” Vergil said, drying off the last of the dishes from breakfast and setting it on top of the neat stack next to the sink.

Nero tapped on the glass, then looked up at Vergil with wide, pleading eyes. He pointed at the glass.

“Newo pay?” he said.

“Your uncle will take you to the market,” Vergil said. 

Nero pointed insistently towards the greenery of the forest. “Newo pay? Da an’ Ony pay?”

“No, Nero. It’s too dangerous out there,” Vergil said, lifting the stack of plates and opening the cupboard to put them away.

“What if we just stayed at the edge of the forest?” Dante suggested. “I do kill demons for a living, in case you forgot, brother. I can take care of the kid.”

“I am not trusting my son’s safety to you,” Vergil said, setting the plates down harder than he’d intended, wincing when they rattled but thankfully didn’t break. “He stays away from the forest until it’s safe, or until he’s trained enough to handle it.”

“I’ll keep him safe,” Dante said, tensing a little. “You think I’d just, what, ditch him and save my own ass?”

“Watch your language,” Vergil snapped.

The twins glared at each other. It took Vergil a moment to realize Nero was watching them instead of the outside now, looking upset.

Vergil took a slow, deep breath. “My answer is no, Dante. I am his father. I make calls for him. He’s too young to know what is and isn’t safe. I don’t care if he wants to play in the forest; my answer remains no.”

Dante, apparently sensing Vergil’s fraying patience and realizing Vergil could very well keep Nero away from him, relented. “Fine. But if he wants to play outside today, we’re playing outside today. I won’t take him to the forest, but we’re going to play outside the house.”

Not in the forest, but not too far from it. Leave it to Dante to find a way that was irritating to Vergil without breaking his rules.

“Fine,” Vergil said. 

Dante leapt up, grinning at Nero and holding his arms open. “Anyone want to go play outside?”

Nero’s eyes lit up and he squealed in joy, clapping his hands and bouncing. “Newo! Newo pay!” 

Vergil pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your next lesson is going to be on personal pronouns, Nero.” 

Nero ignored him in favor of running into Dante’s arms. Nero lifted his own arms and Dante tossed him into the air a few times before heading for the door with him.

“You coming, Vergil?” Dante asked.

“No. I have work to do today,” Vergil said. “I’ll be heading out in a bit. Keep your eyes on him, Dante. Do not let him run off.”

“He couldn’t if he wanted to. He trips over his own feet if he tries to go too fast,” Dante said. “C’mon, kid, let’s go have some fun while your dad works himself to death.”

Vergil ignored that and waited until they went outside. He leaned back against the counter, shaking his head at the empty kitchen.

“Immature,” he grumbled.

He finished cleaning before heading into his room. He took out the documents he’d brought home the previous night, sitting down to get back to work.

He carefully scanned the data he’d copied down, trying to narrow which locations would be most likely. He spent about an hour going through the data and identifying most likely locations, copying them over onto another map of the forest.

When he was satisfied with his work, he stood and folded up the map, tucking it into his pocket. He grabbed the Yamato, ready to get to work. 

He left the house, pausing as he spotted Dante and Nero playing in the street. Nero was chasing Dante with a stick, swinging it at his legs. 

But when he stopped, he tried to mimic the stance Vergil always had when training with the Yamato.

Vergil stared at his son. He sometimes forgot how much Nero seemed to pick up from him. Nero always seemed like he wasn’t paying attention, so easily distracted by everything around him.

But his poorly mimicked stance and mischievous grin nearly brought a smile to Vergil’s face. That was his boy. He had helped create that child.

He felt tempted to go to Nero, to scoop him into his arms and just hold him. He pushed the urge aside and turned away from his boy, towards the forest. He would keep his son safe so that Nero could continue to play happily.

Into the forest Vergil dove, moving swiftly towards the first location he’d identified. He tried not to think about Nero playing so happily outside. 

That was when everything had changed for Vergil. He’d gone to play outside, just an innocent child looking to entertain himself and catch a break from the bickering he and Dante usually kicked up when they were together too long. 

No, that would not be Nero’s fate. He was not alone outside today. And Vergil would get to the bottom of this mystery and stop so many demons from coming through to Fortuna. 

As he came across a small group of demons and tore through them with the Yamato, he wondered if his own father had dealt with this kind of trouble. Had Sparda been keeping demons away from the family while his children played, innocent and unaware? 

Those thoughts would do him no good and get him nowhere, yet still they came, circling his mind. As he approached the first area he intended to investigate, he forced himself to concentrate, focusing only on the task ahead. He may not care much for his brother, but he knew even someone like Dante would fight to protect Nero if anything threatened him. Nero was fine; Vergil had to focus on his job now to keep it that way. 

The first area didn’t produce any results, but Vergil refused to get discouraged. The demons had to be coming from somewhere, and he was certain it was in the forest. 

He tried the second location. Then the third. Then the fourth. He fought the growing groups of demons in his way, hoping that meant he was getting close.

It was the fifth location that finally rewarded his efforts and confirmed his dread.

The tear between worlds was large- large enough for a sizable demon to get through, although still too small for any serious threat to escape from. Vergil took out the Yamato, hoping he would be able to close the portal. It was too dangerous to leave it open. The demons he’d faced were variations of the same type, but that didn’t mean something smarter wasn’t sneaking around after getting through already. 

Vergil took a deep breath and concentrated on the portal, focusing his energy into the Yamato. Opening portals was easy enough for Vergil; closing them was a whole other beast.

Still, it had to be done. He stabbed the Yamato through the portal, focusing his energy on the act so hard that he could feel his body verging on transforming into his Devil Trigger form. He resisted the change, if only because the sudden spike in demonic energy might draw something to the portal and allow it to escape through before Vergil was done.

Vergil grit his teeth as he dragged the sword through the portal, from one side to the other. He twisted it at the opposite end, yanking it back and stumbling back.

He tried to catch his breath as he looked at the portal. He hadn’t managed to close it, but he’d shrunk it so much that he was positive nothing truly dangerous could slip through. Still, he sat against a tree and took the map from his pocket, circling the point he’d found it at. He would find a way to permanently close it and come back tomorrow to finish the job.

He tipped his head back against the tree, his mind and body exhausted from the act of just shrinking the portal. He would just take a few minutes to rest, and then he could-

Rest.

Rest?

His eyes snapped open and he grabbed the Yamato, springing to his feet, body swaying from exhaustion. He scanned the area very carefully, but saw nothing, no trace of demonic activity.

This was the portal they were coming through. It had to be. So where were they?

The answer crept into his mind: The demons were scattering throughout the forest not because they were exploring it, but because something bigger and nastier had chased them away from this area. 

Vergil was running before the thought completed itself.

Something was out there. Something dangerous enough to scare away groups of demons. 

His boots pounded against the ground as he ran. Foolish, foolish. He’d never even considered that the demons were heading towards Fortuna to escape something, not because they were hunting. 

And if whatever it was wasn’t in that area anymore, that meant it had moved too. Something must’ve drawn it away from the area.

Something like, perhaps, two people with demonic heritage getting too excited while they played together near the forest.

Dante should be smart enough to hide his demonic essence. But Nero, if he had any, wouldn’t know how to control it. They’d been dueling for fun, but if Nero got too serious and he had inherited his demonic heritage, it might slip out enough to draw the attention of nearby demons.

Vergil could hear his own childish screams echoing in his head, begging for his mother to come save him. Fleeing, injured and crying, when no one came to help him. Calling out for his brother because he was so desperate for anyone to save him.

If Nero was in trouble, Vergil would be there to protect him.

He pushed past his exhaustion to run faster, faster. He dodged groups of demons, having no time to waste on lesser threats. His son was out there, possibly in danger.

And when he burst from the forest, his stomach twisted until he thought he might be sick.

They were large, heavily armored and carrying weapons. Three circled a bloody Dante, and Nero was nowhere in sight.

Vergil erupted into action, slicing against the armor of one of them. The sudden arrival of another fighter sent the other two leaping back cautiously, giving Dante a chance to spring forward at one of them.

“Nero!” Vergil snapped. “Where is he?”

“Hiding in the house!” Dante said, dodging an attack from one of the demons. “There were two more of these things, but I lost track of them. I’ve got these three; go get the kid.”

Dante didn’t look like he had the situation in hand, but he also wasn’t a defenseless child, so Vergil left him to it. He ran into the house, shoving the door open.

“Nero!” he called. “Nero, where are you?” 

“Da?”

Nero was cowering in the corner, crying. He cried harder when Vergil spotted him, holding his arms out.

Vergil hurried over and picked him up, checking him over. Nero didn’t appear to have any injuries, just a few scrapes and bruises on his knees and elbows from his usual falls. Vergil hugged him tightly.

“You’re okay, Nero. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” he assured.

Nero whimpered and buried his face in Vergil’s neck, gripping his shirt tightly. Vergil stroked his hair, beyond relieved to have Nero safe in his arms. 

“Mama!”

His own cries rang in his ears. He forced those memories away; it wasn’t the same. He was here. He had his boy in his arms, and he would protect him.

He was caught up in Nero’s safety and his own memories, but not enough for the attack to take him off-guard.

He heard it a moment before the demon could stab forward at him. He swiftly rolled out of the way, shielding Nero protectively. Nero cried out, clinging tighter to Vergil.

Vergil had his son in one hand and the Yamato in the other in a flash. He could not risk setting Nero down, not when Dante said there was another demon lurking around here somewhere unaccounted for. 

The demon before him was also heavily armored, carrying a weapon. It looked like some kind of angelic knight, ruthless and merciless. It was not attacking like a mindless, bloodthirsty demon. It was attacking like a hunter- the ones outside were smart enough to outnumber Dante, while this one was smart enough to try a surprise attack to injure Vergil. 

Attacking…like a…

Vergil tightened his hold on Nero and darted for the door. The demon followed, moving fast but not as fast as Vergil. Vergil tried to catch it in the doorway, but it slammed into him with more force than he’d been anticipating, sending him flying back.

Nero screamed, but Vergil managed to just barely catch his balance as he landed. Dante was battling the other three outside, struggling to keep up with their attacks.

“Dante! We have to kill every single one of them!” Vergil said, tightening his hold on Yamato. “If they survive this, they will return to the Demonic World and expose my location. They’ll expose Nero.”

“Just how many demon lords did you piss off while you were down there, Vergil?!” Dante said, narrowly avoiding being stabbed in the chest. “Whoa! Do you mind, pal? I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

“Focus!” Vergil commanded. “One is still missing. All five need to die here. I’ve shrunk the portal enough that no more of this variety should be able to get through, but there’s no guarantee these demons can’t rip it back open to pass through if they escape us.” 

“Vergil, these things are smart,” Dante said, ducking away from a swing. “You know how we need to end this.”

He did. But he looked down at the already frightened child in his arms.

Still, the demons’ armor would make it take too long to cut through each individual one. They could do it, but the longer they took, the greater the chance of one managing to escape. Plus, the longer this fight dragged on, the higher the chance of Nero being injured in it. His healing wasn’t quick enough to save him from a fatal wound, like it would Vergil or Dante. 

Vergil had been alone for years. He kissed Nero’s head and set the child down, prying Nero’s hands from his shirt.

He aimed the Yamato at the demon as he knelt beside Nero. Nero tried to grab at him again, but he easily held the boy back.

“Nero,” he said, his voice quiet and calm. “I am doing this because I love you, and I will not let you suffer the pain I did as a child. Perhaps one day you will forgive me.”

He straightened. Without wasting another moment, he allowed his body to transform, taking on his Devil Trigger form, feeling the demonic power burst forth from inside him. 

Nero screamed and stumbled back in fear, shielding himself against the sudden eruption of demonic power. He cowered away from Vergil in terror, sobbing into his hands.

This is what I truly am, Nero, he thought. It will drive you away from me. But it will save you.

He burst forward at the demon, smashing into it with incredible force. The demon crashed into the house, sending up a shower of dust and debris.

Nero shrieked again and Vergil looked back, worried the missing demon had reappeared. But no, Dante had shifted form too, and the sudden outpouring of power seemed to be too much for Nero to handle. He was curled up on the ground, hands over his head, screaming and crying, writhing like he was in pain.

He senses it. He’s sensitive to demonic power. He doesn’t understand what’s happening.

There was no time to comfort him. Vergil had to make sure the demon he’d hit was truly dead.

He started forward, but the missing demon chose that moment to make its appearance, driving its weapon through Vergil. Vergil cried out in pain and fury, lashing out and driving the demon away from himself. Another demon stabbed him, its sword piercing through Vergil’s chest.

Blood splashed across the ground. Vergil coughed up an alarming amount of it, but braced himself and threw his body back against the demon.

The sword tore into him, but in this state, the pain barely registered. He was too focused on the battle, trying to keep an ear out for Nero in case the boy got into trouble, while also concentrating on the opponent in front of him.

He tore the sword from his own chest and drove it into the demon, slamming into the ground with the sword impaled through the demon’s chest.

Destroyed, the demon faded away beneath Vergil’s assault. He threw himself back up as Nero screamed again.

The child was trying to flee on his clumsy, slow legs as a demon flew at him. Vergil, faster than he had ever moved, found himself between Nero and the demon, taking the intended blow. He grabbed the demon’s arms before it could pull its weapon back, dragging it close.

“You will not harm him,” Vergil snarled before slashing through the demon with the Yamato. 

He slashed again and again, precise attacks that were unrelenting until that demon, too, had faded. He lifted his head and saw Dante driving the Rebellion through a final demon.

“I killed two,” Dante said.

Vergil hurried to the ruins of his home. The final demon was nowhere in sight, but he’d hit it hard. It was likely it had died. Still…

“Search for that final one in case it escaped,” Vergil said, retaking his human form. He put a hand to his injured chest, spitting out blood impatiently. He normally healed faster in his devil form, but that second blow had reopened the wound before it could heal. 

He limped over to where Nero was curled on the ground. He knelt down, placing a hand on the boy’s back and watching him flinch at the touch.

“Nero,” he said. “Nero, it’s me. It’s dad.”

Nero sniffled and looked over his shoulder. He cried harder at the sight of all the blood, but threw himself into Vergil’s arms.

Vergil had not expected that. He’d expected rejection and more screaming.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, peeling Nero away to inspect him. 

Nero whimpered and touched his head. Vergil tipped Nero’s chin down to inspect his head, brushing through Nero’s hair but seeing no injuries.

Then it clicked. Nero was sensitive to the presence of demons, but he didn’t understand that yet. And all that power surrounding him had probably given the poor kid one hell of a headache. 

Vergil lifted Nero into his arms, hugging him. “It’s alright, Nero. You’re okay. We all are. It’s over.”

He hoped. He doubted that demon would’ve survived, but until Dante confirmed he hadn’t spotted it, he would not be content.

He got up and went to the edge of the forest, scanning for any sign of the demon himself. He saw nothing but Dante limping out towards him.

“I didn’t see anything,” Dante said, favoring his right side. “I do have some nasty broken ribs, though. Who knew breathing could hurt so much? How’s the kid?”

“Frightened, but unharmed,” Vergil said, tightening his hold on Nero. “Dante, you should get out of here before the Order shows up. I doubt this went unnoticed. They will probably be on their way now. I will tell them the demons fled into the forest, so hide if you go that way.”

Dante limped up to him and flicked Nero’s ear. “Hey, good job, kid.”

“What-” Vergil started.

Dante grinned a little, wincing and rubbing his ribs. “I saw him trying to hide. He was trying to get out of our way.”

Vergil doubted Nero had been thinking to get out of their way, but he still stroked Nero’s hair. “Well, he’s wise for his age. Sometimes. Now, go, Dante. I’ll have a hard enough time explaining this without you around.”

Dante ruffled Nero’s hair before diving back into the forest to hide himself. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the Knights showed up to investigate the chaos.

Vergil’s wound had healed enough for it not to draw too much attention. He bandaged it himself when they brought him medical supplies and fabricated a story about demons he’d never seen before coming out of the forest and attacking while he was playing outside with Nero.

He claimed he’d tried to flee into the house to get a weapon, but that the demons had attacked the house. He said he hid in the rubble with Nero until the demons went back into the forest, too injured to pursue them and too concerned for Nero’s safety to fight them.

The Knights sent a team into the forest to search for the demons. Vergil was too tired to bother picking through the rubble of his home much, but he did search around enough to find some things to take overnight with Nero. He could do a thorough search in the morning. 

When the Knights returned, they reported spotting but losing a large, powerful looking demon. Vergil was alarmed at first, afraid the one demon had gotten away.

But when they described the demon, he held Nero to himself and tried not to think too hard on the fact that it sounded like Dante had taken up his devil form to give credibility to Vergil’s story. 

It was an exhausting several hours, getting everything cleared up and maintaining his fabricated story of the attack. Nero was uncharacteristically quiet through it all, cowering against Vergil whenever anyone tried to approach him. Vergil’s patience was fraying after the third time he had to tell the Knights that Nero was too young to describe what he’d seen, and that the boy’s vocabulary was minimal. 

It felt like an eternity before they entered their old home, for lack of any other place to go. The Knights were going to patrol the forest for any sign of that “demon” returning to Fortuna, but had finally dismissed Vergil to go rest.

He took Nero upstairs, bathing the child. Nero refused to leave Vergil’s side, so Vergil took a quick shower with Nero sitting just outside the cracked open shower door.

He dressed the two of them and took them to the bed. Nero’s silence was growing alarming, so Vergil set the boy in his lap and looked down at him.

“Nero,” he said. Then he paused. What was he supposed to say? Nero wasn’t capable of communicating exactly what he was feeling after today. 

Nero hesitantly reached up when Vergil didn’t continue, pressing his hand to Vergil’s chest. Vergil placed his hand over Nero’s.

“It’s fine,” he assured. “I’ve already healed. Are you alright, Nero?”

Tears welled in his eyes and he buried his face against Vergil’s chest, balling his fists into Vergil’s shirt. “Da!”

“I know,” Vergil said, lifting Nero up and holding him close. “I do know, Nero. But you’re safe. You’re always going to be safe. I will always protect you.”

Oh, how different his life might have been if his mother had saved him instead of Dante. Or had even saved both of them that awful day.

The nightmares would’ve undoubtedly remained, as they likely would for Nero. But at least Vergil would’ve had a parent to hold him through them, instead of having to comfort himself and learn to live with the nightmares.

Nero sniffled and put a hand on Vergil’s cheek, drawing his face close. Nero pressed his cheek against Vergil’s, his tears tickling Vergil’s skin.

Vergil had no words, so he just held Nero and stroked his hair. Despite Vergil’s exhaustion, he found he could not sleep that night, just holding Nero and soothing him any time it seemed a nightmare was starting. Nero slept fitfully and Vergil had to wake him several times. 

But eventually, the sun rose, and the two climbed out of bed together. Nero hung close to Vergil, and Vergil made sure to hold him whenever he wasn’t busy with housework. 

Vergil was unsurprised when he heard the front door open in the afternoon. Nero winced at the sound, clinging to Vergil’s leg.

But then Dante came in and Nero broke out into a smile. “Ony!”

He ran for Dante, and Dante caught him and tossed him in the air. Vergil was too tired to feel jealous over the way Dante could make Nero laugh so easily despite everything.

“How’s he holding up?” Dante asked.

“About as well as can be expected,” Vergil said, clearing away Nero’s plate from lunch. He turned his back to Dante, then tensed. Dante had protected Nero when the attack started. Likely, that’s what had caused him to be in such a tight spot when Vergil finally arrived. And he’d distracted the Knights and given credibility to Vergil’s story. “Thank you for yesterday.”

He expected Dante to tease him and ask him to repeat that, or something characteristically stupid. Instead, Dante surprised him.

“Hey, gotta look out for family,” he said.

Vergil looked back, but of course, Dante’s attention and smile were directed to little Nero. Nero smiled back, almost reflexively. 

Yes, well. Nero deserved a family. Vergil had lost his, but his son did not have to walk this world alone. It would have to be enough.

“Now what?” Dante asked. 

“With the Knights combing the forest, any other portals between worlds should be discovered and dealt with. We should be safe, at least for a while,” Vergil said. He went over to Dante and took Nero back, relieved when Nero came into his arms willingly. “I will rebuild a life for us here and work on adjusting Nero after that attack.”

“So we’re not going to talk about your demon-sensitive kid?” Dante said.

“What is there to talk about? It’s clearly only noticeable for him when it’s a stronger demonic presence. Over time, he will adjust to it.” Vergil glanced down at Nero. “I think that’s why he’s not afraid of us. In human forms, he does not associate us with the power we exuded yesterday in our true forms.” He pushed back Nero’s messy hair, moving it away from Nero’s eyes. “Did he show any demonic essence yesterday? What drew the attack?”

“Nothing I sensed. He was getting excited shortly before the attack, but I never sensed anything out of the ordinary,” Dante said.

That didn’t necessarily mean anything. It was possible Dante was too distracted to sense it, or confused it with the presence of the attacking demons.

There wasn’t much Vergil could do about it now. He’d just have to keep an eye on it and see if Nero showed any signs of his heritage aside from his healing.

Dante seemed to realize Vergil was dropping that conversation. “So, I’ve got to go back to work. Need to get that electricity back on, you know. But when I get a few gigs to steady myself…”

He waited. Vergil nodded.

“Yes. You may return,” Vergil said. “I have no intention of leaving Fortuna. It is still the safest place for us. And should something happen and we need to flee…” He thought of Dante’s hand reaching for him. “Well, I’ve few options, and you at least have a couch we can sleep on.”

There was a spark of something in Dante’s eyes. Vergil dared not believe it was hope.

“Alright, but if you crash on my couch, the kid gets to gorge himself on pizza,” Dante said, grinning and ruffling Nero’s hair. “Right, kid?”

“Mhm!” Nero said, returning Dante’s grin. 

Vergil shook his head at the two of them. He was signing himself up for a lot of irritation and headaches, he just knew it.

Still, he pictured Dante’s hand again. And, against his will, he pictured himself actually reaching for it this time.

He gave the faintest of smiles down at Nero. For all the grief and exhaustion the child had given him, he had returned a sense of family and purpose to Vergil.

Vergil had no idea what the future held for them. His and Dante’s relationship was still strained at best, and Vergil still had no clue what he was doing as a father most of the time. 

But he would figure it out as he went. For Nero’s sake, Vergil would figure it out. Nothing in the world mattered to him more now than the smiling little boy in his arms.