Archive of Our Own

It was over.

Finally, truly, it was all over. Arkham was left to rot at the top of the Temen-Ni-Gru with lead in his brain, the straggler demons who didn't quite make it back before the portal closed were quickly dispatched thanks to a combination of Rebellion and Kalina-Ann, and Vergil was...

Well, he'd prefer not to think about that right now. Not when he'd just barely managed to choke back the rest of his grief before Lady could see it, or even worse, pester him about it. How embarrassing would that be...?

In any case, it was time to start the next chapter of their lives. Killing demons, kicking back, killing more demons. Y'know, the usual, what else was a devil hunter to do around these parts? So, bidding goodbyes and parting ways, Dante made the trek back to his shop on aching feet and worn-down bones, wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and hibernate for a good 3 weeks after that whole shitstorm. 

Only, through the deafening buzz of his racing thoughts, he'd failed to recall one teeny, tiny, very important detail.

A detail that smacked him over the head with a cinder block as he approached the steps to his beloved shop. Well, what once was the shop anyway. Reduced to nothing more than a pile of rubble on the ground.

Great, this was just what he needed right now. Complete exhaustion, a dead brother, and now the crushing reality of homelessness. Whatever God he'd pissed off to draw the short stick this many times, held grudges for longer than an angry inlaw.

He sighed. There wasn't much he could do about it, so there was no point in sulking over it. He may have been part-supernatural creature, but he wasn't a miracle worker, collapsed buildings didn't just put themselves back together through sheer willpower alone. Or strength, or anything really. Not with damage this bad.

The grimace on his face grew deeper and stronger the longer he stood glaring at the wreckage. He didn't know what compelled him, but something called him to move forward into it. To take a step forward, and so he did. Clambering up over the chunks of concrete wall, into the mini-crater where his residence once sat warm and inviting after a long and tiring day.

He sighed again, half to blow the dust cloud away from his face and half in frustration. It'd taken him an annoyingly long time to acquire this shop in the first place, he was still paying the damn thing off as well! Enzo wouldn't be too happy about this.

A gleam . Something catching the light of the moon shining overhead from under a chunk of concrete, a shimmering beacon in this pit of misery. He brushed aside the dust and debris carefully, correctly sensing that whatever this object was, it was fragile. Important.

The portrait of Eva. His dear mother, still here for him even after all this... The sight brought fresh tears to his eyes, burning like a strong acid and making him wince. The glass frame was shattered, obviously, shards cutting into his flesh and staining the cracked glass in a thin glaze of red. Before the photo itself could be damaged, he wiped his hand off onto his coat and slowly, gently eased it from it's broken prison. A picture frame could be replaced, but the picture itself?

Nothing could replace that. Nothing could replace his mother, his broken home, his brother, himself...

"Devils don't cry, huh?"

Her voice pierced like a bullet through his self-pitying, bringing his attention sharply to the hot and wet tears streaming down his face, just barely missing the photo clenched tight between his shaking fingers as they dripped off his chin. He sniffed the rest back, wiped his face and turned away.

"I thought you left, Lady. Did you miss me that much already?" His voice was raspy, and he cursed that audible crack at the end.

She scoffed. "I was leaving..."

"But?" He turned toward her slowly, still not enough to show his face but enough to see hers. She looked.. concerned? Annoyed? Honestly, it was impossible to tell with that woman.

She shrugged, taking a look around the ruins of the building in favour of answering his question. Poking at a few bits here and there, glancing across the only remaining half-wall standing strong amongst the rest, the only indication that this demolition site was once a building at all. 

On it sat a single poster, a scantily clad woman with some kind of band logo plastered in convenient censorship over her chest.

"Was this your place?" The answer to that question was obvious, but she asked regardless. Of course, he nodded.

"Was. My place... yeah." He huffed, folding the portrait up carefully before he crushed it any further, and tucking it into his coat. Hopping out of the rubble-crater, and turning his back on the remains of what once was. Looking at it was only making him feel like shit.

"Not very homey anymore." Lady followed close behind, and Dante scoffed. He didn't say anything, but it was pretty obvious he was upset. It probably wasn't the best idea to piss off a half-demon, so she tried a more gentle tone in an effort to... comfort him? 

Or maybe just to avoid unnecessary conflict.

"Where are you going to go now?"

He shrugged curtly. "I don't know." He paused, and continued in a quieter voice, fidgeting with the tattered edges of his ripped sleeve. "I'll probably see if I can stay somewhere else, if not then... under a bridge, maybe."

She sighed, shaking her head. She knew he was miserable, but really? He didn't have anywhere to go, did he?

An idea popped into her head. A dumb, stupid and idiotic idea she knew she'd regret as soon as the words escaped from her lips, forming into an offer without her consent and presenting itself to Dante on a silver platter. She wanted to smack herself stupid, or shoot herself in the head. Either or.

"Do you want to come with me?"

Now why did she go and say that? Maybe it was that sad look in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped over and the typical witty charm of the demon boy had fizzled out into a pathetic cloud of smoke. Maybe it was that which caused her to pity him, to truly feel bad for the man for the first time since she'd met him. 

Or maybe she just couldn't leave him behind. He had done her a favour, hadn't he? Whether he meant to or not, he let her be the one to put the final bullet in Arkham's skull. He'd helped her reach that ultimate goal of killing her father once and for all. Maybe this was the least she could do as thanks.

He turned to face her fully now, cheeks flushed and eyes red from those pesky tears which still wet those white eyelashes of his. Bright turquoise eyes shimmering with soft hope, once he realized she wasn't joking about this after all.

"What, and go home with you? I thought you didn't date demons."

She scoffed, shoving him by the shoulder and turning away. "If you'd rather sleep on the streets, that's fine by me."

"Nevermind, i'm coming..." He raised his hands in mock surrender, a pang of panic shooting through his system. For a moment he thought he'd really fucked up his chance here, so he was quite relieved when she gestured for him to follow instead of leaving him behind, as she walked slowly back through the barren streets of the city.



It was quiet. Deafeningly quiet. The streets had been empty for a long time, ever since demons first invaded some number of months ago and pretty much everybody either left or became demon food, but he'd never fully realized just how.. lonely everything had gotten.

Cars lined the sides of roads, forgotten and abandoned much like the buildings they passed slowly with each step. Most were either broken into, boarded up or collapsed completely. The pavement underfoot was cracked and not even local wildlife wanted to come out and play.

It was a depressing sight, really.

The moonlight overhead was the only thing lighting up the streets as they walked, none of the street lamps worked anymore. It made for a weirdly peaceful atmosphere combined with the serene silence, if you ignored the huffing-and-puffing woman chugging along in front of him.

How long had they been walking now? At least a good few hours. He had to give credit where credit was due though, for a human Lady sure did have some endurance. But not nearly as much as a half-demon, considering how heavy she was breathing. That rocket launcher probably didn't help either.

So, being the absolute gentleman he was, Dante reached out and plucked the weapon from her back like plucking a feather, slinging it over his own shoulder and flashing her a grin when she responded with a scowl.

"You sound like you could use some help."

She huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm fine, thank you. I've walked plenty more than this with her on my back."

"Her?" Dante's lips curled up in amusement, as he followed behind once again when she continued on anyways. Although she'd never admit it, the damn thing was unbelievably heavy. She was glad to have it off her back for a bit.

"Her." She nodded. "Kalina-Ann."

"Huh.. didn't know it had a name." He mused to himself quietly, glancing over the weapon and finding the etching on the handle. Sure enough, scratched into the metal were the words "Kalina-Ann." It made him smile a bit, knowing he wasn't the only one naming his guns.

"Is that just a fancy name or someone you know?"

She shrugged, her voice going noticeably softer. "It was my mother's name."

"Oh." Was all he could muster up to respond with, shifting his gaze off to the side. "That's uh... quite a way to commemorate somebody."

She only nodded, muttering under her breath. "I was going to kill my father with her, that seemed like a fitting end to his story... but I gave her to you instead."

Oh. He didn't quite know how to feel about that. Guilty? It wasn't his fault though, she made that choice on her own accord. Maybe that was just a statement though. Not meant to insult or provoke a reaction, just a simple statement. In a way though, the launcher did make a contribution to the man's death at least; He'd used it when fighting the bastard in the bowels of hell, just before...

Changing the subject, he rested his hands behind his head and swayed a bit on his heels, stretching out and yawning.

"How much further? I'm bored."

She was starting to regret letting him tag along already. Straightening up, she answered with a sigh.

"Not too much longer. Getting tired already?"

She taunted him, but her words were soft enough to double as genuine concern as well. He chuckled.

"Not too bad. You?"

She nodded. "Fine."

"Good. I'd hate to have to carry you the rest of the way home."

She rolled her eyes. If only she could go back in time and slap herself, she would.



The sun had already begun to rise when they finally made it back to Lady’s apartment, peeking up from over the horizon in the distance. It wasn’t fancy, a small place with the bare necessities, an old leather couch and a severely outdated box TV. 

For as cramped as the space was though, he had to admit, it was kinda cozy. 

“You can take the couch..” Lady yawned mid-sentence, dumping her weapons in a pile by the door to deal with later in the day before heading down a hallway - presumably to get some shut-eye in her bed if she didn't pass out on the floor before she reached it. 

He nodded, gladly letting his body collapse into the leather cushions and decompress into a pile of tangled limbs. Closing his eyes, and breathing out slowly.

The couch wasn’t the comfiest thing in the world. Cracked leather scratched at any exposed skin it could find, and he found himself sinking into it further and further by the second, the springs inside must’ve been broken or something. But it was better than sleeping in a dumpster or under a bridge, so he had to count his blessings somewhere. 

So with enough effort to quiet his thoughts and ignore the sun glaring in his eyes through the curtains, he managed to drift off and get some sleep of his own. It wasn’t good sleep, but it was sleep nonetheless.

Dante couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced a nightmare. In his childhood probably, when he could go crying to his mom about it or pester Vergil as a distraction from his shaking hands and racing heart. 

Vergil. His dear brother, his other half, the piece of him now lost to time in the deepest pits of hell never to be seen again. So why was that the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes?

It was a dream, he knew that. Obviously - Vergil was dead. And he would remain dead, whether he appeared in this subconscious state or not.

Vergil - or Dream Vergil as Dante would call him for the sake of his own sanity - stood far from Dante with a blank expression. Fuzzy and distorted, it was hard to make out at this distance. Like a royal palace guard, standing tall and unmoving against the blazing inferno behind him.

Dante sighed out shakily. It was a dream, a stupid dream designed to get under his skin and eat away at his heart like an ugly parasite, dreams weren't real and couldn't do anything to hurt you no matter how hard they tried.

Yet here he was, frozen still with only the ability to gawk at the sight in front of him, feeling like hot needles were piercing every inch of skin they could find.

Dream-Fake-Not Real-Vergil reached out slowly, the back of his arm a charred and disgusting mess of scorched fabric and flesh. Still silent, still with that unchanging expression. Dante's breathing stilled, and without realizing, his own arm began to reach out in tandem. Like two magnets attracting toward each other.

They weren't close enough to touch. Never could be, never would be again. Before he could try and close the gap, smoke clouded the area and swept away what little remained, leaving him in the black void of dreamless space. even in his dreams, he couldn't get the closure he so desperately craved. Just one last touch, one last word, one last look…

The smell and sound of frying food stirred him from his unpleasant slumber lazily, wafting over to his spot on the couch from where Lady stood in the kitchen, back to him and moving about quietly. Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, yawned, and glanced over to get a peek at what she was doing.

She looked much less intimidating like this. All disheveled and wearing tattered old pajamas rather than her usual arsenal of firearms - which had been put away already by the looks of it, glancing over to where they'd been dumped that morning - much less devil-huntery. Much more human.

"Good Morning. Or afternoon." He tried with a raspy voice, standing with a loud crack from his joints in protest and stretching. She grunted back a quiet reply, dishing up the food into two plates awaiting on the bench next to her.

"I forgot you were here."

"Really? Who was the second plate for then?"

She huffed, sliding it over to him as he approached with that shit-eating grin. Not even 10 seconds since he woke up and he was already insufferable, was this a thing with all demons or was Dante a special case?

The food looked good, much better than anything he could've put together anyways. Eggs and bacon, simple but satisfying, and probably way better for you than junk food or pizza. They both ate slowly, leaning over either side of the bench and chewing in silence. Glancing sideward every so often, awkward tension building slowly with each second passed.

"So, uh.." he began with hesitance, pausing when she flicked her eyes over and half expecting her to shut him up with a glare. But she remained quiet, so he continued.

"Thanks. For letting me stay here."

"Oh.." she sighed, shoulders loosening up just a tad. "You're welcome, I guess."

He grinned, he couldn't help but tease.

"Maybe you don't hate me as much as you thought~"

She jabbed her fork at him, narrowing her eyes. "Hey, don't push your luck. If you piss me off i'll dump you out on the street like a wet cat."

Wow, grumpy. He smiled, gently lowering her fork with his own. "Yeah, sure."

Honestly, that man seemed to have a special talent for getting under her skin. Was it his dry wit? His shit eating grin? His existence? Or all of the above? Maybe she was just grouchy. She hadn’t slept very well, too achy and sore to sleep for more than an hour at a time at most. And really, it didn't look like he'd slept much better himself.

The eyebags on his face were a dead giveaway, as well as his squirming on the couch, which she’d caught that morning when she'd relented and gotten out of bed sooner than she would've liked. Could demons even have nightmares?

Could demons even dream, actually? Well, human-demons anyway. Dante was nothing like the usual critters she squashed like bugs.

He didn't have gangly limbs or three heads or giant wings. He just looked like an average guy - sans the white hair - the typical outline of any other 19 year old boy. But he was 100% a demon. If the fact that he'd survived two bullets to the head didn't prove that, she didn't know what would.

Her curiosity grew and grew the longer she thought about it.

"You're a demon, right?"

He nodded. "Well, half demon."

"Oh.." she nodded back slowly. "Is that why you don't look all.. crazy like other demons?"

He shrugged, leaning against the bench. "Probably. Why?” He tilted his head, a curious grin spreading slowly across his lips. She simply shrugged and looked away.

"Oh, just curious, I guess." 

He continued smiling at her, obviously not satisfied with that answer, so she kept going.

"You were shifting around a lot this morning.. I was wondering if dreaming was a thing demons could do."

He laughs, and her face flushes red with slight embarrassment. "Yeah, demons dream."

"Do they have nightmares?"

He nodded, glancing away with embarrassment of his own. She could sense he didn't wish to delve any further into that topic, and honestly? She didn't really want to either. So she changed the subject, glancing down at his attire and scowling.

"Did you sleep in that?"

The crusty old red coat stood out like a sore thumb amongst the greys and browns of Lady's apartment. He huffed, shrugged and crossed his arms. It was comfortable.. and besides, it wasn't like he had anything else to wear instead.

"Would you rather I go completely topless?"

She felt heat rush to her cheeks, quick to shut down this line of thought before it could escalate. "Hell no. I can already see enough as it is."

He grinned, happy to see his teasing had the desired effect. "Your loss."

Standing from his spot, he scooped up the empty plates and moved to dump them in the sink, taking the liberty of washing them since he was there anyway. Quietly, Lady thanked him for the small favor, but outwardly she swallowed her pride and moved to the living room instead, flicking the TV on and trying to find something to play as background noise.

There wasn't much. Most TV stations were dead, and what remained were either boring or not of her tastes. Its moments like these where her cassette collection came in handy. Dante chuckled at the sight - an outdated form of video for an equally as outdated TV.

"How old is that thing?" He moved to lean over the back of the couch, watching her struggle with the cassette player before giving up and tossing it back into a drawer.

Lady shrugged, "I don't know, I found it years ago at an estate sale."

"A taste for antiques huh?" His attention had shifted elsewhere in the time she'd taken to reply, glancing over the cluttered shelf in the living room stacked with all sorts of bits and bobs.

“It’s not that old”, She grumbled and followed his gaze, picking up an old trinket box and opening it carefully. "I guess... they're nothing special."

He moved closer to give everything a more detailed inspection, picking up an old necklace for himself, letting it shimmer in the light. "It's cute."

"Cute?"

"Yeah." He picked up something else, an old camera with a broken lens. "I used to collect vinyl records. They're probably all destroyed now though, along with the shop..."

She nodded. "Huh.."

"What?" Finally putting down her things, he turned to face her with a raised brow. She shrugged. It seemed a little.. offensive to say "i didn't think demons were into that kinda thing" so she stayed quiet.

Eventually he wandered off back into the kitchen, taking a seat at the bench, and being left to his own devices while Lady ignored him in favour of the trinket box in her hands. Very quickly finding himself shifting around like a hyperactive chihuahua with severe boredom.

Another hour or so passed. 

He settled on fidgeting with his own trinkets to keep himself occupied. His guns, Rebellion, his amulet, his glove, his coat. Anything really that was within arms reach from his seat at the bench.

With enough incessant rattling, Lady's attention was finally caught as she glared over her shoulder at him, completely absorbed into picking at the fraying edges of his ripped sleeve. She sighed, rubbing her temples. 

Who knew hosting a guest could be this annoying. Though right now, what she was doing was closer to petsitting than hosting. He looked like a sad puppy.

She had to do something. For both his and her own sake, she couldn't take any more of his noisy fidgeting without feeling like her brain was going to melt. 

She disappeared down the hallway, returning shortly fully dressed and holding a wallet.

He paused, blinking, then raising a brow in question. She sighed, "You can't stay in that old coat the entire time you're here. It stinks."

"Okay. What do you suggest then?" He folded his arms, grinning slowly. She walked past him, heading to the front door and retrieving a pistol from a small cabinet nearby, tucking it into her belt before answering him.

"Let's go and get you some new clothes."

He smiled, joining her at the door in an instant, leaving Rebellion behind at the bench. "Sweet. As long as you're paying."

"Yeah, sure."

She grumbled quietly in half-agreement. Of course she would, it wasn't like he had any money in the first place. If only she knew just how much her wallet would cry after that shopping trip. 

Since when had clothes gotten so expensive? It wasn’t like he bought much - a few shirts and another pair of pants - yet she was down almost $100 dollars. And yet to close her purse-strings, as he wanted to get food on the way back. She wasn’t much of a fan of pizza, but he was a hard man to convince otherwise.

“100… 200… 350.” Leaning over the park-bench they’d stopped at to eat, Lady grumbled through a mouthful of pizza whilst flipping through the notes within her wallet. Dante chuckled, his own mouth stuffed full of food as well.

“Wow. That’s quite the number.”

“Not really.” She sat down and tucked it back into her pocket, swiping another slice of pizza “I started out with a lot more this morning.”

“How much?” He leant forward, curious. She shrugged.

“About 500?”

“Wow.” He whistled, chewing slowly, then continuing. “Where do you even get that much money in the first place?”

“Demon hunting.” Lady raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a devil hunter as well?”

“I mean, yeah..” He shrugged. “But most of my cash went to bills and bar tabs…”

“Oh. I see.” She sighed softly, finishing her piece of pizza, pushing the rest Dante’s way and crossing her arms.

The sun was setting already, not unexpected considering how late they’d woken up, but still a bit annoying. They’d have to walk back home in the dark. Again. She hated walking in the dark.

If it wasn’t some weirdo in the streets, it would be a demon, or some creaking noise that made her skin crawl and hair stand on end. While yes, any combination of her weapons would make short work of any threats trying to sneak up and attack while she was distracted, she was still human. 

She still got antsy, she still got scared. Did Dante also feel that way? 

He was a demon - half demon - himself, much more resilient than herself that’s for sure. Did he feel scared when encountering a demon in the dead of night? Or did he feel nothing toward the situation at all? Or maybe he even experienced excitement, the thrill of a fresh battle drawing a smile on his face, one that grew larger with each demon he sliced, stabbed or shot full of holes.

There was no way to tell, really. Not right now at least, and especially not when he was covered in pizza grease. Her face twisted up in disgust at that sight as she threw a napkin at him with a grumbled “Gross…”

“Hey, Lady.”

It’d been some time since they both went silent, since they’d begun the journey back to her apartment as the sun set over the ruins of the city. Dante’s voice pulled her from a state of dissociation some amount of time between then and now, soft in tone. Hesitant.

She glanced back at him. “What?”

“Why are you doing this?” Dante chewed his lip, his brows pinching together while he waited for her response. Hands in his pockets and leaning back on his heels casually, though his jaw was clenched tight.

Why was she letting him stay with her, is what he meant by that. Why was she making the effort to buy him new clothes and food, to try and be hospitable when he’d done nothing to really deserve it. Pity, maybe? He hated being pitied. He’d gotten enough of it as a kid.

Too many times was he coddled or talked down to when growing up on the streets, too many times was he dismissed just because he was a child.

Did she feel genuinely bad for him? Why would she. She barely knew him, her first reaction to properly meeting him for the first time was to shoot him in the head - despite the risk of plummeting to her death as a consequence - for god's sake.

Or did she want something from him? Money? Something else entirely?

He didn't know.

“Because..” She looked away. “Because you helped me out back there. It’s the least I can do to thank you..”

“I helped you?” 

With what? Hell, he tried to stop her if anything, cockblocking her pretty much every step of the way until he flew up into hell. How is that helping?

“Yeah.” She smiled, crooked and hesitant, but it was still a smile nonetheless. “I don't think I would've had the strength to carry on with my mission if it weren’t for you…”

He couldn’t help but laugh, and shake his head. He didn’t really believe that, she seemed perfectly capable on her own. But if it made her happy, well.. Who was he to argue back?

“Whatever you say, Lady.”

Dante had ended up staying for a lot longer than either of them intended. And honestly? The half demon didn’t turn out to be nearly as insufferable as Lady thought he’d be.

 If you put aside his witty sarcasm and glorified laziness, it wasn’t that bad being around him for so long. She had to admit, despite herself, the company was… nice.

Or maybe she was just lonely. Who knows, your mind starts doing crazy things when you live on your own for so long.

He seemed pretty happy to sleep on the couch, and she wasn’t one to protest that. She taught him how to cook too, basic meals, but anything was marginally better than greasy pizza for a week straight. Including anything he burnt into a charcoal brick.

(Maybe that was an exception, the only reason she’d willingly order takeout. But she’d never tell him that, otherwise every meal would come out of the oven darker than vantablack.)

He taught her some gun tricks and let her toy around with Rebellion in return. Overall, getting along surprisingly well.

Most of their days were spent like this. Every so often Lady would be called out for a job and Dante would tag along to assist, but those were few and far between now that the portal to hell was shut. Nights though, that was a different story.

It was like a switch had been flipped, whenever the sun would set and she’d be too tired to carry on with whatever they were doing that day. That classic dry wit and sarcastic humor he was so well known for would be non-existent. Sitting on the couch, staring at his hands, contemplating something in pure silence. 

What that something was, she could only guess.

The look on his face told her everything she needed to know about those moments. A permanent scowl etched into his features even when he was asleep, creased brows and white lashes wet with unshed tears.

Now usually, she would’ve left him to his own devices. Give him any space or privacy he might’ve needed to process whatever it was he was sorting through mentally. But this particular night, as she passed behind him intending to head to her own room for some shut-eye, her attention was caught and her curiosity sparked by a particular photo clutched between Dante’s shaking fingers.

“Who’s that?” Her voice was soft, and she leant over the back of the couch to get a closer look. He quickly placed the photo face-down on the table before she could capture any details.

“Nobody..” He muttered with a cracking voice and a clenched jaw. Lady sighed.

He wanted to be left alone, probably. But she was a stubborn woman, and this time she wouldn’t leave without an answer.

“I’ve seen you looking at the photo before.” She moved to sit down next to him, leaving a gap between and folding her hands in her lap. She hadn’t really, this was the first she’d seen of the image but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

He grunted softly in reply, looking away. When he didn’t answer, she continued.

“Is that your sister? Or girlfriend maybe?”

“My mother.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “It’s a picture of my mother.”

Lady nodded slowly, taking a glance at his expression, seeing it scrunch up and noting how quickly he blinked to choke back tears. Her heart clenched.

“Is she..”
Dante grimaced, his hands curling up into fists against his legs. “Dead.”

“Oh.”

Silence hung heavy in the air, carried by his blunt statement. 

Without thinking, her hand reached up for the small ruby she wore around her neck, holding it lightly between her fingers. She’d worn that necklace since she was a young thing, her mother had given it to her just before Arkham - that son of a bitch - murdered her. Or, in his words, ‘sacrificed’ her. What bullshit.

“I.. I know how that feels.” She offered empathy hesitantly, unsure of whether or not he’d accept it, whether he really wanted it at all.

“Yeah?” He muttered quietly.

“Yeah.” She shrugged, bringing her hands back to her lap once more. “When I was a little girl… My father sacrificed her in the name of his sick and twisted goals.” She couldn’t help the low growl that seeped into her voice as she spoke. Dante turned to her, his eyes softening.

“That makes two of us, I guess. Minus the sacrificing part.” He let out a light chuckle, dry and without any real humor within it. “She was killed by demons when i was a kid.”

This time Lady grimaced. “I’m sorry..”

“Why? It’s not your fault.” He shrugged and slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms and resting his chin on his chest. Staring at the photo face-down on the table, reaching out to turn it over before returning to stare at it once more.

It was stupid, but he’d like to think she could still see him, still feel his presence through the photo. That maybe she was still watching over him from some nice place high up in the clouds, enjoying the sunshine and relaxing without a care in the world, without the fear of demons appearing out of the blue and ripping her to tiny little shreds faster than she could blink.

That she was at peace now. Not rotting in the dirt.

He felt a pressure on his back, being pulled from his thoughts and glancing over to find Lady reaching out gingerly with a soft glint in her eyes. Her hand on his back, shaking fingers pressing lightly into his flesh. Her hand was warm.

“We’ll be alright..” She spoke quietly.

He simply nodded, closing his eyes and leaning back, letting himself drift to sleep slowly. His chest felt a little lighter now, he’d heard that talking about your issues can help you to deal with them or whatever. Maybe those people weren’t as wrong as he thought.

His stay at Lady’s apartment lasted about a month in total. In the end, he’d managed to find a new place to set up shop with Lady’s generosity… as in she helped pay the majority of it. But that didn’t matter, he’d deal with any debt he owed to her later.

For now, he was just glad to have a place to call his own again. A desk to kick his feet up on and a record player to listen to while bathing in the dim overhead light and the smell of mildew. Yeah… it wasn’t the best place, but it was certainly better than nothing.

Sitting back in his chair, looking around at the new office and basking in all it’s glory, his eyes landed on the portrait of his mother sitting proud on the dark wooden desk.

He’d finally bought a new frame to put her in, one with (faux) gold trim and thicker glass than the last one. He gazed at her for a long while, taking in all small details he could find, before smiling to himself softly. He couldn’t help but think to himself;

“Are you proud of me, mom?”

Silence. Of course, she couldn’t answer that. But he’d like to think she would be.

He’d like to hope she would be.