Archive of Our Own

Now Nero doesn't fancy himself a complainer, in fact, growing up an orphan made him only that more appreciative of the little luxuries in his life. A nice home-cooked meal even when Kyrie burned the rice? Don't even worry about it, the food was still warm and made with love. The kids leaving their toys all over the living room floor for Nero to trip over? Hey, at least he even has a living room to call his own. Hell, even Nico with her messy work habits, loud mouth, and foul cigarettes was a blessing in his life. She did alot for him that many others wouldn't even dream of doing. 

But this? This was asking a bit much of him. He could feel the discomfort lodged in the back of his throat ready to be voiced the further and further they travelled through this godforsaken place. The sweltering heat was seeping into his skin to the point where he swore his bones were melting. And yet as he looks on ahead of him all he is met with is the prim and pristine form of his father, his regal back still clad in his signature coat. He mused that his icy cold demeanour must manifest as a physical power, for how else did he manage to stay so cool? At least it was good for something.

"So…tell me why we are here again?" He couldn't help but ask. 

Vergil did not pause nor look back as he answered him. " I have told you already, the owners of this factory have suspicion that there is a nest infesting it, and due to the ideal temperature, I am inclined to believe it." 

Nero puffs out his cheeks, pulling at his shirt collar as it sticks to his sweaty skin. 

"Yeah I know that, but why do we both need to be here and not Dante …nests are kind of his thing."  He's all but pouting at this point.

Vergil scoffs but there is no irritation in the sound. If he found the petulant tone of his son's voice amusing, he did not say as much. 

"Yes, but your uncle is like a dog, you see. Sic him in any direction and he will chase the first thing that moves. But if my theory is correct, we are most definitely going to need a little more precision than that. The Yamato is best suited for the job." 

Nero can't help but chuckle at the image of Dante on all fours bounding after some poor demon with his sword in his mouth. It's not actually as hard for him to picture as it should be if he is being honest. 

"That's harsh, old man." Vergil gives a minuscule little shrug which Nero has learned to interpret means he agrees with you but he still doesn't care to acknowledge it. He definitely didn't have one of those "warm and fuzzy"  types for a parent, so he didn't expect a pat on the head anytime soon. 

"And I am here to…?"

"To learn, Nero." He turns his head sharply at that to look his son dead in the eye, expression suddenly serious, quieting the younger immediately. 

"You are moving up in the demon hunting world, which means you have developed quite a reputation for yourself. That is why you must know how to deal with any threat you may encounter along the way. Flying by the seat of your pants as you have been doing up until now is not going to cut it anymore." 

That last comment sets his teeth on edge, adding to his already terrible mood. As if the man in front of him did not have a storied history of impulsive blunders that ended in catastrophic disaster. Yeah, Dante filled him in on the Temen-ni-gru "fuck up", as he liked to call it. 

"Whatever."

Vergil studies him for a beat longer, expression unreadable and then turns back, continuing on their seemingly endless path. 

The further they travel into the bowels of this hellmouth of a factory, the more stifling the air around them becomes, as if an inferno was raging below the steam grates and industrial floors. He trudged along behind his father, trying to think 'cool thoughts' when he suddenly collided with his solid back. 

Before he opens his mouth to protest, his father raises his hand to silence him, cocking his head as if listening for something. Nero focuses his senses as well, trying to feel whatever presence Vergil sensed with his far  superior instincts, and he picks up a light thrum of demonic energy coming from a massive hole towards the back of the facility that housed the boiler room. Great. More heat. How pleasant. He was definitely going to get a popsicle after this. 

"Well," He stretches his arms over his head, adjusting the straps of Red Queen on his shoulder. "Let's get this over with."

He manages one step before his father holds his arm out to stop him. "And, where are you off to in a hurry?" 

"To kill the damn thing, duh. It's clearly made its nest in that huge-ass hole." He tries to pry that arm away from his chest but it won't budge.

" What did I just say? We cannot be rash Nero. We need to prepare." He reprimands him, expression frustratingly close to that of a real father. It doesn't sit well with his son, too reminiscent of a look someone else gave him with the same eyes. 

The younger grits his teeth, moving around Vergil and throwing up his hands in disbelief when the other only moves to block him.

"How the hell are we going to know what we are up against if we stand around with our thumbs up our ass?" 

"That is why you are staying here and I am going ahead to assess."

Tch. Great. Even after all he has done, all the experience he has gained including kicking the old man's ass he is still not good enough. He still can't be trusted to hold his own. Does nobody remember the Saviour? Sure, he had Dante’s help, but he did all the heavy lifting. 

"Like hell I am!"

Vergil shuts his eyes and touches his forehead in frustration.  "Nero, my patience with you is wearing thin." 

"Well too bad old man, you said so yourself I needed to learn, so I'm coming with you." He can hear the petulant tone of his voice and coupled with his frown and crossed arms, he must look the part too, but he doesn't care. He is not going to let his father see him as weak. 

Vergil sighs, but he studies his son closely, realising he is not going to give an inch. If they want to finish up early he's gonna have to concede,  which he has been doing more and more as of late. Who knew his very own child would be his greatest challenge yet. 

"Very well, brat. Just stay alert and don't do anything idiotic." He grumbles, pushing past Nero and moving onward towards the opening. 

Nero rolls his eyes, secretly satisfied at having won. 

"Yessir." 

So, Nero might not have thought this through.

As soon as he crossed the threshold into the lair of this unknown demon, he was blasted with an overwhelming burst of hot air and steam. The sheer force of the increased heat has him raising his arm up to shield his face, though it does little to quell his slow suffocation. It is as if the very air in his lungs have vaporised, no matter how hard he breathes, the oxygen evades him. 

“Quickly Nero, we are vulnerable to attack once we are in its domain.” He feels a strong grip on his other arm as Vergil begins to drag him along. He doesn't even know how the man is able to talk in these conditions, let alone support him. 

“What kinda of fucked up demon is this, Satan?” He manages to bark out through his gritted teeth. His throat is as dry as sandpaper and it reflects in the roughened tone of his voice. 

He did not expect to receive an answer to his rhetorical comment, but he swears he can hear Vegil say “he was an old acquaintance” over the blood rushing in his ears. Well shit, dear old dad sure knew friends in high places. 

Without warning, his father's grip on his arm tightens near-painfully as he teleports them to higher ground, well above the constant outpour of steam as heat. It's a narrow maintenance catwalk, but he will take the tight squeeze if it means he can cool down a little. 

Once he reorients himself after the impromptu teleport, he joins his father who is already scanning the area below and they continue along the metal floor on light feet. 

"Can you tell me what it is yet–?" He asks impatiently and receives a finger over his lips for his effort, Vergil not even turning around, but somehow still accurately guessing where his target is. 

"Hush, it will hear us." He whispers so quietly even with Nero's heightened hearing he strains to decipher what he said. 

He bats his father’s hand away, “Yes you keep telling me how careful I need to be but you still haven’t really said anything. Are you sure you know what you’re even talking about?” 

He can almost feel the vein that must be popping in Vergil’s forehead right now. “Nero, if you are questioning my knowledge, I, who was fighting off entire demonic battalions before I reached the age of twenty, then you are not as bright as you think you are.” 

Nero clenches his jaw at this but his tongue is far quicker than the rest of his mouth.

"Yeah? Well I think you're full of shit and you have no idea what we are walking in on."

 His father's eyes flash and narrow dangerously "Nero, I'm warning you–"

"You can take your warning and shove it up your ass, I'm going down there right now."

Vergil digs a suddenly clawed hand into his shoulder, he can feel the razor-like claws through the layers of clothes. 

"Don't you dare! You're going to get yourself killed, we have to wait for the right moment to strike, which is not possible right now!"

He growls despite himself, shrugging his father's arm off of him with great difficulty. "We're wasting time! I'm going in there whether you like it or not!"

Vergil’s eyebrow twitches visibly, his teeth gritted. “Nero–” 

His mouth is moving before he can stop it.  “God, would you stop trying to act like a father!? You haven’t been one for 24 years so no use starting now!”

It’s a low blow, and the utter shock that bloom’s across the older man’s face is apparent even in the dim light. He swears there is a split second of hurt that lingers on those usually stoic features before it vanishes, leaving behind only a sombre silence. 

 A pang of guilt forces the younger to look away, hating himself for having said that in his blind anger, but he cannot erase decades of bitterness and resentment at his father over the course of only a few months. It is that same resentment that hardens his conviction to do this job his way and that the old man will be damned if he thinks can’t handle himself. 

Before Vergil can say anything else, Nero has leaped off the safety of their metal perch to the still sweltering ground below. 

The moment his boots land, he realises his mistake.

His mind is suddenly too crowded, sounds borne from the womb of hell itself blaring in his ears until he is certain his eardrums are bleeding.  A sensation not unlike a hot serrated knife pierces through his consciousness as image after image of things his too human mind cannot possibly begin to fathom swirl around until a great dense black hole fills the centre of his consciousness. 

There is an agonising scream he cannot quite pinpoint the origin of. He has never been in so much pain in his entire life. Having his arm ripped off paled in comparison to the tortuous and unrelenting assault he was no subject to. Seconds must have passed but it felt like aeons. He didn't know where he was, who he was, or what he was but he just wanted it to stop. It was like experiencing every bad thing that ever happened in one's life all at once, but there was no time there to heal the gaping wounds. He was just continuously bleeding out, infection and fever running rampant through his veins, and just make it stop, please make it stop. He would do anything, worship any deity he had to with fervour if they could end his torment. 

On the edge of his consciousness,  something shifts. Suddenly overwhelming him is a sense of guilt that doesn't entirely feel like his own.

"Nero, I  am sorry. "

Everything stops. Just blackness remains. 

When he comes to, his vision is sideways and it takes him entirely too long to grasp that he is lying on the metal floor. His eyes blink back a haze and he manages to keep a vicious nausea at bay. He remembers where he is and clambers to unsteady feet. There is a figure standing before him, unmoving, but it looks unnatural. The more his eyes clear, the more his stomach turns. 

"F-father?" He calls in a small voice. 

Vergil's head hangs limply, his body bowed over slightly, as still as a stone statue. 

Panic begins to fill the boy at the disturbing sight, a noise of distress leaving his throat before he can stop it. He stumbles over as quickly as his still-recovering body will allow. The closer he gets, the more horrified he is.

Thick black spikes the shade and texture of obsidian have entered his father clean through, their jagged edges twisting like gnarled vines. Blood trickled in a steady flow, sizzling as it hit the hot surface of the ground. 

"No no no please no…."

He is almost hesitant to get closer, more terrified by what he sees, as if the distance will mean it ceases to be reality. Harsh laboured breaths cut through the moans of industrial metal, and Nero allows a little relief in between the space he made for his crushing terror. 

"Father? Can you hear me?" He repeats once more, trying not to let a cry escape his throat as he assesses the damage.

Vergil rasps, reedy and thin, like the air is escaping out of the hollow of his chest and not his lungs. If he even still has lungs.

Nero covers his mouth. "Oh god, how do I help you? Tell me father, please!" 

The older demon, listlessly moves his head, but manages enough strength to look up at his son. His eyes are cloudy and unfocused.

"R..un."

Nero shakes his head furiously. "No, I'm not going to leave you!" 

He starts circling the obsidian trappings, clawing at them uselessly where they have wound around his  father’s arms in a crushing grip, imprisoning him to the spot. When that doesn't work, he hacks at the stone with his sword in a flurry of brutal swings, but they barely scratch the shiny surface, only reflecting the stricken expression he is wearing back at him. He cries out in frustration and nearly collapses in front of the trapped demon. 

"It's no use they won't fucking give! Damn it dad, why did you have to do that?! It was my idiotic mistake you should have–"

"Ne…ver." 

Nero begins to protest, but Vergil shushes him.

"Will…always…protect…my son." And his expression is so determined despite how weak he is, the conviction so unwavering, that Nero actually believes him. He lets his tears fall as he rests his forehead against his father's, petrified that this might be the last time he will be able to appreciate the elder’s rare closeness. Vergil for his part leans into him, hating that he cannot comfort his boy and for being too weak to do anything of use. 

"I'm gonna get you out, I swear father." He promises, brushing the bloodied hair that has fallen out of place back into some facsimile of Vergil's usual hairstyle, knowing it is important to his pride. 

Suddenly his father seems stricken, eyes widening. "There's no…"

A loud roar shakes the building to its very foundation, metal rattling and releasing sounds like the screams of the damned. He instinctually shields Vergil with his body, his cerulean wings acting as a barrier between the wounded demon and whatever threat may come upon them.

"Going somewhere?"

Nero turns abruptly, moving away slightly from his father  but still holding his wings high as he scans the area and chills sliver down his spine. His vision is blurry, but he can make out the form of a woman, no, something with the face of a woman but her aura was entirely inhuman. It was heavy and oppressive, as if her very essence was choking the life out of him. He never felt anything like it.  She stands above them atop machinations he couldn't hope to name, leaning casually as if this was just a typical Tuesday for her and not a deadly encounter with infamous Devil Hunters who have built quite a reputation in the underworld, one of them being the literal current king of Hell . This both irks and alarms him. He’s hoping this is just false confidence and not anything more worrisome. 

He prostrates, not wanting to let his very real fear show, the sweat on the back of his overheated neck turning cold.  “Who are you, and what the fuck do you want?”

 A menacing polyphonic voice chuckles, released from black lips that turn up into a feral grin. 

“Now now, we have all the time in the world to get to introductions...well, your dear daddy might not.” She tsks, suddenly too close, grabbing Vergil’s face in her twisted fingers and squeezing his cheeks like he was a mere child, just because she could. Shit, he didn't even see her move! 

“Get away from him, I am warning you…”  He can see her more clearly now, and it’s not a pretty sight. Her eyes are red like molton coals with tiny pinpricks for pupils that bore into Nero’s and he feels gooseflesh raise at her menacing scrutiny. A single horn sits atop her head and curves downward, framed by feather-like black hair. She is smaller than most demons but is at least 6 ft in height. How could she hold so much power? 

“And what? You are going to whimper at me like the pup you are if I don’t?” She shakes her head incredulously, but then she turns away from Nero, already bored by his presence.

 “I am the rightful heiress to the throne of hell.” She speaks this directly at Vergil now, disgust on her face, making her feelings known about how she feels about the current pecking order in which atop his father sits.  Vergil for his part, does not waver his gaze. 

“Pfft, that's what everyone says these days, maybe you should get a new line.” Nero only can hope to stall, his mind working a mile a minute to come up with a plan. 

She throws Vergil's head to the side and it cracks audibly enough that Nero actually hears it and his blood runs cold. He only starts to breathe again when his father's ragged pants begin anew. That couldn't have felt good.

“I must say, I am rather disappointed in you Vergil, I thought you would be more of a challenge.” She shakes her head. “I guess sometimes even the bottom-feeding slaves of the Dark Prince can usurp a King who has grown too confident in his position.” Vergil growls, the sound cut off by her hand wrapping around his throat and Nero holds back a panicked whine from a primal place at the sight of his sire in such a vulnerable position. His blood boils in anger. He rings out a shot of Blue Rose towards her and she deflects it easily, but releases Vergil in the meantime and he hacks out a violent cough. Nero releases a breath he didn't realise he was holding. 

“ What, that’s all you want? I don’t understand what the big fucking deal is. This guy has been King of Hell for months now and all he does is drink tea and read dusty books. What does it matter who rules over Hell,  he’s not even there.”  

The she-devil looks affronted. "All the more reason to take the throne from this half-breed. ” It spills from her mouth like a slur.  She lunges at Nero, producing black spikes out of her hands, holding them in a brawler’s stance. Nero triggers and readies his own fists. She throws the first punch and it takes Nero all he has not to get the wind knocked out of him. He blocks it with his wings, doing his best to avoid getting nicked by whatever black sludge it was producing. He realises this must be what he stepped in earlier and nearly split his head in two.  "There is a world of difference between me and you, boy. Should I plunge you in my darkness once more, just to remind you so?" She unleashes another flurry of attacks and Nero strains to protect himself.   He doesn't know if he will be able to handle another one of her nightmares again. 

"N-no." Vergil grits out, clawing at the obsidian cutting through him, demonic energy pouring off of him in waves. Nero is shocked he has any left, and is angered that he is not directing his  limited reserve of power to keep his body alive. Stupid old man. 

She laughs in delight at the display, pushing Nero away with ease and clapping her hands together, like this is all some warped play for her enjoyment. "A father's love! How sweet. Do you know who my father was?" And suddenly she is not laughing. The room suddenly gets cold, four white wings sprout from her back in what would be an almost angelic display if they didn't belong to a psychotic harpy. A weakness. Nero can exploit this if he just catches her off guard– 

Now it is Vergil’s turn to laugh, managing somehow to convey the mockery he is making of her obvious attempt to threaten him despite the limited air in his lungs and the blood leaving his body in steady rivulets. How the old man can still act so superior while in such a diminished state is a mystery to Nero, but he wished he wasn’t such an ass in this moment. He uses the distraction to his advantage, her angered growls allowing him to move into a better position for they mask the sound of his feet upon the metal. 

“Yes I do… Modthryth” He speaks her name with barely contained revulsion. “…But what you seem to forget….is this."

Vergil looks over at Nero for one second, as Nero revs his sword, a slight nod all the signal he needs. 

" I may be a half-breed, but I am the half-breed who killed your daddy like the feral mutt he was."

 The She-demon reels backwards, as if she has been shot. "Why you wretched–ah!" Modthtyth chokes out a cry as Nero rips through two of her wings with ease, he then summons his bringer to chuck her across the room back towards the furnace. He barely has time to check the state of his enemy as luckily her stone prison is released and his father slumps forward, hurdling fast to the ground.

"I got you old man." He narrowly catches him, hating how the blood soaks his fingers from where he grabs him around his midsection. His trigger fails him and leans all of his father’s weight on him. 

"U-use, Yamato–" Vergil begins to say when he is cut off by a furious scream, the beast of a demon already making her way towards them. Yamato is tossed at him and he almost misses the catch, not expecting it. 

"Fuck dad, I've never done it before–"

"She will do the work….just picture home." 

Shit shit shit. He wasn't ready. 

"YOU WILL REGRET THE DAY YOU WERE BORN! SPARDA SCUM!"

Two red eyes are moving fast from within the darkness of the furnace room. Nero wraps an arm around his father tightly and lets his other hand wielding Yamato do the rest, acting purely on instinct, not letting his head overthink anything. It's not too different from the moment he awakened to his true power.

The next thing he knows he is imagining the Devil May Cry office and suddenly there is old hardwood under his feet, their menacing foe miles away. They both are panting messes, heartbeats hammering in their chests from all the adrenaline and fear coursing through their bodies. 

Nero eyes the sword still in his hand in wonderment. "Wow…I did it."

"That you did, son." Vergil replies, tired but the pride is beaming through, his arm tightening around Nero as much as he is able to and his son’s ears redden despite himself. 

"Who was that by the way, I guess we are going to have to go back later, huh?"

He receives no response, and when he turns back to the man in his arms all he sees is the whites of his eyes as he falls limp. 

Cold terror shoots through him instantly, freezing him in place. "Dad? Dad?!" 

"Hey, that was quicker than I thought–Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?" Dante drops his girly mag instantly and rushes to his brother's side. Nero is refusing to let go of him, clenching on to his still bloodied coat like it was a lifeline.

"Kid, kid, I'm going to need you to release your dad, he's not doing too good and I need to look at him alright?" Dante speaks to him as calmly as he is able to, not wanting to spook his nephew more. 

His lip quivers but he complies, rooted to the spot as Dante manoeuvres his twin over to the couch.

"Kid can you go into my bathroom and get–"

"He jumped in front of me. Why would he do that, Dante?"

Dante sighs, the answer obvious to him. "Well you can ask him that yourself once he wakes his ass up, but for now I need your help."

"I mean he told me already, but still, doesn't he know how…how…" The kid trails off and his face crumbles.  Shit, this is not good, Dante can’t handle taking care of his near-comatose brother and his brother’s spawn having a full-on panic attack at the same time. 

"Kid knock it off–"

"He can't leave me again! " The young demon cries, the words ripping out of his throat as the direness of the situation catches up to him.

Dante falls silent, pained by the obvious anguish of his nephew.  "Kid come here."

Nero shakes his head like a scared child. "I need to get something in the bathroom. Can you watch over him in the meantime?" 

“Okay…” He says in a small voice and Dante lets out a sigh of relief. Before Nero comes over he covers his big brother in a blanket, fearing the sight of him might trigger his nephew again. 

“Make sure he is breathing, I will be just a sec, okay?”

“What if he stops breathing?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

Nero does not want to think about what will happen if they do. Dante teleports away and Nero grits his teeth in shame as splotches of blood begin to darken the blanket. The old man wasn’t healing, he wasn’t healing because Nero had been his usual cocky self, thinking he had to prove something to the father who abandoned him. And now that father was dying, there would be no one to prove anything to if he did not survive this. He touches the back of his hand to his father’s face and winces at how cold he feels. He chokes out another sob that suspiciously sounds like an apology. 

“Okay kid, what’s the update, old man still breathing?”

Nero nods, continuing to caress his father’s pallid cheeks and the backs of his eyelids, his long lashes tickling his knuckles. 

“Great, that's good to hear!” Dante shuffles behind Nero, covering the boy’s eyes as he removes the blanket. He hears Dante swear softly under his breath. 

“It’s bad, isn’t it.” He deduces gravely. 

“Well, it’s not uh great that’s for sure.” He still has his hand over Nero’s eyes, and his heart hurts as he feels tears begin to wet his hand. 

“Nero, I am gonna need you to pull yourself together now. I need you to tell me exactly what you were fighting, this is crucial.”

The younger bites back a sob. “Fuck, I-I don't know, some she-demon, had a weird name…old man knew who she was–Mod something…”

“Modthtyth?” His uncle offers instantly. 

“Yeah, t-that’s it.” 

Dante sucks in a breath. “So that’s why you were so adamant on taking this job on, you dumbass.”  Nero hears a clink ! As Dante opens some sort of vial. “Hold this for me, kid.” He pushes a drinking glass into his hand and Nero accepts it with shaky fingers. He chances a look down and he sees amber liquid swirling around the bottom through his blurred vision. 

“Who is she?” Nero can’t get her red flashing eyes out of his mind. 

“A pain in the ass, is what she is. A  high ranking member of Mundus’ infernal army back in the day, she doesn’t really love the fact that I killed her master and your daddy killed her daddy, Beowulf, back at the Temen-ni “fuck up”.” 

“So she is gunning for dad’s blood then.” 

“Yep, most likely. Heard he was back in town and took her shot. She’s crafty, she probably even put the call in herself, seems like something she would do.” He hears more liquid being poured into the glass he is holding. 

“Didn’t think demons knew how to use payphones.”

“They don’t, she’s not fully demon either, she’s a hybrid like us–well that’s also not accurate, she is more of an artificial demon–it doesn’t matter, kid, can you turn towards my desk, I am gonna need two hands for this next part.” 

Nero obliges him, keeping his eyes closed for good measure, he doesn’t think he can stomach it if his father’s injuries are as bad as Dante’s poorly hidden reaction is anything to go by. A new wave of guilt passes through him like a dagger.

Speaking of daggers, he is startled when he hears a grunt and the distinct sound of flesh being torn pricks at his ears.  He begins to turn back towards the couch in concern. “What the hell–” 

“Don’t look kid, I am just adding some of my blood to this mixture, doesn’t look like Verge is going to be able to feed by himself right now.” Funny how Nero didn’t even smell it, the whole room blanketed in the scent of his father’s blood. 

“Huh?” 

“I’ll explain later.” His uncle scratches at his beard, and grunts.  “Shit this is gonna be unpleasant. Kid, do you think you can come over here and give me a hand? I know what I said, but your dad might have a-uh, adverse reaction to this shit. It's been awhile, but I remember this hurting like a bitch.” 

“Fuck, okay.” He reluctantly turns around, focusing on his uncle’s grim looking face and not the pale prone form lying on the couch that hasn’t stirred since he brought him in. 

“Grab onto his arms good, he’s not going to like this but if he thrashes around too much he can cause more damage.”  Nero moves behind the armrest, his sweat slicked skin gripping his father’s arms and hating how weak they feel in his hold. He does not look down.  His uncle has now situated himself on top of his brother’s legs, barely putting any of his weight down, glass in hand. 

“You ready?” 

Nero is not, but he nods anyway.

“Sorry big bro, this is going to hurt.”

The liquid falls into what he imagines is the open wound and near instantly his father’s eyes open, a scream ripped from his throat that wrenches Nero’s heart. Like a re-animated corpse, his father’s strength returns enough that Nero has to struggle to hold him down. 

“Hey hey hey, old man, calm it down, you are gonna make this worse than it has to be.” Dante hushes, bearing his weight down on Vergil’s thrashing legs as he continues to pour the concoction all over his stomach. Nero chances a look down and wishes he hadn’t. His father looks nearly hollowed out, tissue, organs and bone all on display and not in places they should be. Nero feels bile rise in his throat. Around the entire wound, if you can even call it that, black swirls cover the area like an infection, Nero can feel their corruption from here, similar to whatever he was hit with when he first jumped down to his doom. 

This was all his doing, his father would not be enduring such agony if he had only heeded his warning, if he had only trusted him. He feels more pathetic tears drip down his face and onto his father’s ghostly cheeks as he continues to use all his strength to hold the writhing demon down.

“Father…I am sorry.” He whispers through another despairing sob. 

Vergil quiets for a moment, the wild fear in his eyes dissipating as his vision pulls into focus, drawn to the sound of his nestling’s cry.  

He caresses his son’s arms in his grasp, gritting his teeth as overwhelming pain threatens to overcome him entirely, but with Nero as his anchor point, he is able to endure. 

“No need…to be…sorry, my child.” He brings Nero’s arm—Yes, that one—down to his face and places a kiss on his knuckles, as if that is reason enough for why Nero should never feel sorry about any pain he directly or indirectly causes his father. 

The young demon sniffles, taken aback by this rare display of affection, and looking back on it, he will likely chalk it up to his old man’s pain-induced delirium, but he will cherish the moment nonetheless.

Dante coos as he watches the sweet and tender moment between father and son. “Aww you two are so cute, I wish I had a camera on me to–” 

“Finish that thought and I will cut you.” 

“I will stick my sword up your ass! They say in unison. 

Dante laughs with amusement, his brother’s reaction proof enough that his little concoction worked. He sees the black corruption dissipate completely from his brother’s body, the wound finally beginning to heal, albeit slowly. 

“ The apple don’t fall too far from the tree. Welp, looks like you are feeling better, daddy-o. Do you think you can feed yet?” He asks more seriously. 

Vergil throws his head back against the arm rest. “Maybe in a little while, I need to heal up my stomach first.” 

Dante's eyes widen in realisation. “Shit yeah, that would make sense wouldn’t it.” 

Vergil shoots him a look as if to say, “of course it makes sense, dumbass”. And man, Dante is relieved to see it. Speaking of which…

“Damn it, Vergil, why didn’t you tell me it was Modthtyth you were hunting?” 

“She is mine to eradicate, and you know it.”

Dante stiffens, and Nero feels like he is missing something. “Could’ve still told me, and you brought Nero along too!”

“Nero was supposed to stay where I told him to, this was to be a quick fight. Modthtyth is insignificant.”

“Yet Mundus sure did rely on her funky little black goop for the Angelos didn’t he?” 

Vergil says nothing. It is the lowest of low blows and Dante instantly regrets saying it, but his brother gave him quite the scare so he is not thinking straight.

The red devil moves towards his brother, placing a gentle hand in his hair. “You frightened me today, big bro, I just want to make sure you’re careful. Both of us are relying on you, now okay?” He fixes his brother with a serious expression.

Vergil nods imperceptibly and Dante sighs. It’s a start. He gives Vergil a quick kiss on the forehead before rising to his knees and sauntering towards the kitchen. “All these emotions are making me hungry. Kid, you want anything?” 

He shakes his head, his stomach feeling like it's doing somersaults.

Dante shrugs. “Suit yourself, keep an eye on your old man for me while I put together a little pasta,”  He turns back, before reaching the threshold.  “And don't worry, I’ll make some for you anyways, brat.” He smiles as he feels his nephew flip him off as he exits the room. 

Nero finally feels himself breathe, wiping at his stinging eyes as the last of his errant tears continue to fall. The overwhelming sense of dread and fear has not left his system. He is going to be shaken up over this for a long time. Vergil hums, noticing his son’s distress and continues to hold on to his hand, caressing his knuckles gently. 

“No more tears for me little one, they are wasted.” 

Nero splutters. “What do you mean, you could have died because of me, do you think that makes me happy ?” Vergil is silent for a beat, taking in what his son has said. 

“Nero, no matter the circumstances, my life is forfeit when it comes to protecting you, understand?” Vergil’s clear blue eyes do not waver in his conviction as he says this. 

The younger gasps, unable to believe what he is hearing. He swipes at his nose in embarrassment and tries to change the subject to something that was bothering him.

“Look, dad, about what I said before–”

“It’s of no consequence.”

“I was wrong to say it. I didn’t mean it.” This is so difficult for the young demon. “I uh, I like that you try to be a father, I just don't know how to handle it sometimes, because I’ve been on my own for so long, I am set in my ways, just like you are.” He admonishes lightly. “It is going to take me sometime to adjust and not feel like everything you say is some sort of attack against me.”

Vergil tilts his head to the side in thought. “Hm. perhaps I can rethink my own approach to handling you Nero, I hadn’t considered…” 

They both trail off, lost in thought.  Nero finds himself reflecting on the day and hot-blooded anger fills him as he thinks of the She-demon. 

“We are going back for that demon bitch though, right?”

“Oh most definitely.” Comes Vergil’s immediate reply. “Perhaps we can drag your useless uncle along just so I wont hear him whining.”

“Hey!” comes Dante’s affronted response from the other room and the devils roll their eyes in tandem. 

Nero huffs a laugh and decides to gingerly settle himself on the couch, making sure not to jostle his father too severely. The wound is nearly halfway closed already which eases some of his anxiety. His father’s eyelids have fluttered shut, the healing most likely exhausting him.

“Guess we aren’t going to be sparring for a while, huh?”

Vergil scoffs. “So says you.”

“You have a hole the size of a football in your chest.”

“And? I can still take you on.”

“Prick.”

“Insolent child.” 

Nero can’t help but smile at the banter, grateful to have not lost it for the time being.  

“Tell me father,” He suddenly asks, “what is the next posture you want to teach me?” 

Vergil’s eyes open at this, barely-hidden mirth coming to the surface as a rare smile pulls at his lips. Nero’s ears redden at such an expression being openly displayed on his supposedly cold father’s face. He wouldn’t mind seeing it again in the future. 

Vergil links their fingers together, holding his son’s hand tightly with renewed strength. 

“ Tachi-ai , the place where two warriors finally meet.” 

END