Archive of Our Own

Nero was not having a good day. Actually, scratch that, he’s not been having a good month. Ever since Dante and Vergil decided to take their little road trip to hell and ditch him, he’s been stuck cleaning up Vergil’s fucking mess. Redgrave was still a wreck, demons running rampant all throughout the city, leaving those few hunters capable of fighting them to pool together and beat them back into the dust. Which, normally this wouldn’t be a problem. Nero had always liked fighting, and killing demons was the one thing he was really good at. Besides, he was finally getting the chance to work side by side with Lady and Trish, Dante’s most trusted friends. All of this would’ve been great, if Nero didn’t feel like a chewed up piece of gum that someone decided to smear on the ground. 

Realistically, he was probably just tired. He’d had a long few months, even before this. Between losing his arm, being stuck in a coma, fighting Urizen, and then spending a month nonstop trying to protect Redgrave before he could even attempt to face Urizen for a second time, Nero knew he was at the end of his rope. Kyrie had tried so hard to convince him to rest. And he had, he’d stayed home for a week before the restlessness kicked in. He’d never liked sitting still, not since he was a kid. At the time, he had assumed he had a lot of energy, and that was the reason why he was always in motion. Now though, he was pretty sure it was because of the demonic blood in his veins. Not that he had confirmation for that, since, again, Dante decided to jump into hell instead of explaining shit to him. 

He could ask Trish, she’d likely have an explanation for him, but he felt so…awkward, having to ask her about this. He was fine, it’s not like this was the worst thing that had happened to him. Sure, all of his sense getting heightened after Triggering for the first time took some getting used to but it was helpful. Mostly. 

“Can you not do that shit in here?” He coughed, waving the smoke out of his face as he and Nico made the long trip back to Fortuna. 

“Ah, quit yer bitchin’,” Nico snapped back, taking a long drag of her cigarette. He was convinced she did this shit on purpose. He opened the window of the van and leaned his head out. He needed the fresh air. All he wanted to do at this point was lay down with Kyrie and go to sleep. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” he snapped back, no true heat behind his words. At the end of the day, no matter how badly Nico drove him up the goddamn wall, she was his best friend. Not that he would ever tell her that, her inflated ego didn’t need a boost. 

The fresh air was helping, at the very least, the smell of smoke wasn’t as overpowering as it was before and the breeze helped calm the static that had been making his thoughts a jumbled mess for the past however many days. 

“Yeah? And you smell like ass, what’s your point?” 

Wordlessly he flipped her off. This started a whole new argument between them. It was a whole lot of nothing but at least it passed the time relatively quickly. 

Pulling into the old garage was always a calming feeling, knowing that he was finally home and could just relax after everything. It was late when they stepped out, late enough that the boys would be asleep and that Kyrie would probably be getting ready for bed. The two of them hopped out of the van, stretching as much as they could after the long drive and ferry ride back to the island. 

Nero quietly placed Red Queen and Blue Rose in their spots in the workshop, toeing off his boots just outside the door. His jacket was coated in dried demon blood, which just smelled gross if you asked him. The door creaked open as the two of them crept inside. Nico was, predictably, staying the night. Nothing all that weird there in his opinion. She would just crash on the couch like usual. He was starting to think they needed to invest in a spare bedroom just for her. 

With all the grace of a baby deer, Nico collapsed onto the couch and passed out in seconds, not even waiting to see if Nero was going to offer her anything to eat. Whatever, she could deal with that in the morning. Right now, he needed a nice, long shower. And maybe a hug from Kyrie. That settled his nerves like nothing else. Quietly making his way up the stairs, Nero passed by the boys room, poking his head inside to make sure they were all still asleep. Carlo and Kyle were passed out, completely dead to the world. Julio looked like a startled cat when he caught Nero’s eye, the flashlight in his hand was quickly shoved under the blankets to hide it and the book he was reading. Nero waved at him, smiling all the same. Julio was a good kid, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed going to bed early. Nero had caught him a few times, but he would never rat him out. What Kyrie didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. 

He closed the door to the room as he left, leaving Julio to enjoy his book. The door to his and Kyrie’s shared room was open slightly, and the light was still on. Good, he wasn’t going to wake her up when he grabbed a change of clothes. Slipping inside, he smiled when he saw her, sitting in their bed. Her hair was down, falling over her shoulders. She was wearing one of his black shirts, which completely dwarfed her much smaller frame. She had the blankets pulled up to her waist as she sewed up some of their clothes, likely his, judging by the long slash in the fabric. At the sound of his footsteps, she looked up, eyes softening as she looked at him.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, voice low so she didn’t wake up the boys. Kyrie put down the shirt and stood up, he caught sight of pink shorts under the shirt. She looked him over carefully, taking in his still bloody appearance. Most of it was dry and not his, but he knew she wanted to make sure he was alright. He met her halfway, leaning forwards to place a gentle kiss on her lips. She smiled against his lips, placing a hand on his cheek. Reluctantly, he pulled away. 

“As much as I would love to continue this,” he said, running his hands through her hair. It was always so soft. “I am so gross right now and desperately need a shower.” 

She laughed, a sound like chiming bells that warmed his heart every time he heard it. “Go shower. We can talk more when you feel better.”

“Nico is asleep on the couch by the way. She conked out the second we got inside.”

“I’ll make sure to set an extra plate for breakfast in the morning.”

Nero smiled at her again, before he quickly grabbed a change of clothes. Nothing fancy, a simple blue shirt and black boxers, but god was he looking forward to wearing something comfy. 

One very warm shower later, and Nero was thankfully free of blood and grime, feeling much better than before. He tossed his gross clothes in the laundry basket, promising himself he would do laundry in the morning. Kyrie had put her sewing stuff away and had apparently remade the bed while he was gone. 

“Feeling better?” she asked as he settled down beside her. As soon as he sat down, he was made aware of how exhausted his body was. His muscles ached from weeks of near constant fighting with only a few breaks here and there. He was all too suddenly aware of the tension running through him, leaving him coiled like a spring, ready to jump into action. 

He sighed contently, wiggling under the blankets until he was laying down, where he practically melted into the soft mattress and warm blankets. “Yeah,” he mumbled, eyes already drifting closed. Kyrie placed a hand on his head, running her fingers through his hair and lightly scratching. Nero was out before he could even register the gentle purr building in his chest. 

Despite the ease that he fell asleep, staying asleep was a whole different issue. Nightmares had always been a problem. He used to get them, even when he was a kid, and they only got worse as time went on. Credo’s death and the events of the Savior incident haunted him for a long time, he would wake up screaming Credo’s name, scaring Kyrie awake and hating himself for it. Hating himself for being too weak to save him. Things weren’t any different now, except the nightmares themselves had changed, leaving him gasping for breath as he clutched his arm. Sweat dripped down his back, leaving his shirt sticking to him uncomfortably. A gentle hand grabbed his, and he flinched. When he was finally able to focus on whatever was touching him, he saw Kyrie, sitting up slightly, leaning over him. Her hand rested on his, carefully tugging his hand away from his arm. There was blood staining his fingernails, smeared lightly across his arm, but no wound remained. Whatever self-inflicted damage he had done was already healed up. 

Kyrie’s other hand came up to his face, cupping his cheek and running her thumb across it. “A nightmare?” she asked, voice soft and understanding.

He nodded, trying to get his breathing under control. He didn’t trust himself to speak, pretty goddamn sure he would start crying the second he opened his mouth. Which, yeah okay, sure, getting his arm torn off was one of the most traumatizing things to happen in his life, but he was getting real sick of waking up like this. Kyrie moved her hand from his cheek, wrapping it around his shoulders instead. She pulled him into a hug, holding him there as he struggled to hold himself together. He wasn’t going to break down, not now. His shoulders shook as he struggled to fight back the tears. Nero wrapped his arm around her and buried his face in neck, breathing in her comforting scent. He didn’t even realize he had summoned his wings until he felt Kyrie lightly stroke the feathers, smoothing them over, leaving him to go boneless in her arms. 

After a few minutes of just holding each other, Nero’s breathing calmed and he no longer felt like he was going to vibrate out of his own skin out of fear. He slowly pulled away, studying her face intently, hoping she wasn’t upset that he woke her up, again. 

Not that she’d ever been mad at him for it. She watched him, worry written clearly on her face as she finally let go of his hand. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said, finding his voice. It sounded shaky, barely held together. The restlessness was back, leaving him jittery and anxious. 

“It’s okay. Are you feeling better?” She said, tenderly wiping some of the sweat from his face. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. 

She met him halfway, leaning against him as well. “Are you sure?”

No judgment, no prying questions, all she wanted was to make sure he was alright. He just wished he could swallow his pride and tell her how stressed he’d been. How uncomfortable in his own skin he’d been for the past month. There were so many things that had changed so suddenly since his fight with Vergil, and he didn’t want to make Kyrie deal with this. She already worried about him all the time, he didn’t want to add to that with something he didn’t understand himself. How much of what was bothering him was from his own mind and how much was from his demonic side?

It was pretty hard to explain why he felt the need to constantly be near her or Nico, or the fact that out of nowhere, he’d started to make weird demonic noises. Had Trish said he was speaking Abyssal? Something about it being an instinctive language shared by demons? Oh, and Nero really didn’t know how to process that he was pretty sure his canines had gotten longer and sharper. He was already pale as hell, he didn’t need anyone else making a fucking vampire joke. And, again, there was the unfortunate fact that his head felt like someone had shaken a soda can and stuck it in his brain instead. His thoughts were fuzzy at best and it sucked. 

“I might go take a walk, just clear my head for a while,” he said, hating the thought of leaving her, but knowing damn well he wasn’t going to fall back to sleep any time soon. 

Kyrie hesitated, turning her head towards the window. It was dark outside, sometime in the middle of the night. “Nero, it’s late out. Maybe you should wait until morning.”

Nero shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll be getting any more sleep tonight. I promise, I’ll be okay. I can take Blue Rose with me if that’ll make you feel better.”

“Try to come back soon, please? And stay safe,” she urged. 

“I promise. You won’t have to worry about me,” he tried to reassure. He placed a quick kiss on her lips, whispering, “I love you,” against her mouth. 

“I love you too,” she replied, watching him shuffle around in the dark. He grabbed a pair of clean pants and socks, grateful for the new dark vision he had. At least he wasn’t tripping over everything on the floor. 

He snuck out of their room, closing the door quietly behind him. He crept down the stairs, pausing to make sure Nico was still sleeping. Her loud snores filled the room and she rolled around on the couch. 

Nero slipped into the garage, sliding his boots on and grabbing Blue Rose. He didn’t know where he was going, but he just wanted to go out. He wanted to be outside, away from everything. He spread his wings, taking off in the direction of Mitis Forest. Something was calling him, a pull in his chest pointing towards the forest, one he hadn’t noticed until now. 

He flew quickly, staying out of sight until he reached the forest. He half expected to run into a whole bunch of demons. Hell, he was hoping to run into some. It would feel good to tear into a few low level demons right now. Instead, the forest felt empty. Which was way more unnerving than he expected it to be. He wandered through the forest, unsure where he was going, just following the instinctual tug leading him towards the opening of a cave. He stepped inside, and immediately was assaulted by the scent of magic in the air. It crackled across his skin, leaving him hissing as it left his nerves tingling uncomfortably. Underneath it, was the scent of blood. Human blood. 

“What the fuck?” He pushed forwards, ignoring the way every instinct in his body screamed at him to turn back and leave. This felt too recent and far too powerful for just some run of the mill demons or the average person. Whatever this was, the spell was either starting to fail or had just been cast. And neither option sounded great. 

“Great, just great,” he muttered. The walls of the cave were smooth and gray. The atmosphere was tense and oppressive. There was a strange red light from the alcove further in. He drew Blue Rose, claws drumming anxiously against shoulders. 

On the ground in front of him was a large circle, runes along the inside and outer edge. A ward or a seal of some kind. It looks like it had been drawn in blood, which, honestly? Would not surprise Nero at all. Humans were stupid and liked to mess around with things they didn’t understand. In the center of the ward was a large statue, mid sword swing. It was probably one of the most detailed statues Nero had seen, and that was saying something. Looking closer, he realized that the statue depicted Sparda in his human form. There hadn’t been many statues of him like this before the Savior incident, and there were even less now. “Huh, weird.”

The feeling of magic was strongest here, crackling in the air as the runes on ground flickered. Glancing around, he spotted two blood splatters near the outer area of the ward. Following the blood trail, he saw two figures in black robes slumped against the cave wall. The one of the left had a gaping hole in their chest, blood still sluggishly pouring out of the hole. The other one had had their throat slit, blood staining the front of their robes. Both had died recently. What the fuck had these guys been doing? 

Moving away from them, he approached the ward again. The tug from before was stronger now, urging him to approach the statue. Like a man possessed, Nero grabbed a discarded knife, likely dropped by one of the two figures. He didn’t even think when he slid the knife through the soft flesh of his forearm, watching the blood pour against the sigils, completely detached. The blood seeped into the ward, being absorbed into the ground. The wound on his arm had healed up, and the knife clattered to the ground when Nero regained his senses. He staggered slightly, hand coming up to rest on his forehead, the soft buzzing he’d unfortunately gotten used to over the course of the past month returning. 

It was quickly drowned out by the sudden, overwhelming presence that made itself known, just as the ward on the ground practically exploded into a bright red light. He stumbled backwards, shielding his eyes behind his hands. His wings flared, claws flexing as he prepared for a fight. 

Nero felt like he couldn’t breathe, the magic reaching a crescendo, and then, everything went silent. The light faded, allowing Nero to blink the spots out of his eyes. The ward on the ground had faded, no longer that vivid red it was when he walked in. The statue in the middle was no longer a statue, instead, Sparda stood in the flesh. The sword in his hand hit the ground with a clang. Sparda himself appeared dazed, blinking icy blue eyes as he looked around. His hair, which Nero knew should be the same pure white as his own, looked closer to a dark gray with the dust still clinging to him. His purple coat was dirty and ripped, as if he’d gotten into a fight before this. Then again, if the sword was any indication, he probably had. 

Oh fuck. That was his grandfather. Nero had just accidentally freed his grandfather from being sealed away. Take that, Dante. Look who’s dead weight now, Nero thought bitterly. 

Sparda, seemingly having regained his bearings, finally looked at Nero. His eyes seemed to glow softly in the darkness. “You. Did you free me?” He asked. 

Nero nodded, “Uh, yeah. You good?” 

This whole situation was so fucked. Had he been here the whole time? He knew Sparda had “disappeared” years ago, but if he was stuck here the whole time, that would sure as hell explain where he had been. 

“Yes, I believe I am. Thank you, young man. What’s your name?” Goddamn, Nero’s had more positive interactions with this guy than his own father. First family member that he didn’t pick a fight with immediately. And Sparda was a full demon. This family was so fucking weird. 

“Nero.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nero. I am Sparda, although you may have already guessed that.” 

“Uh, yeah. It was kinda obvious. I’ve seen enough statues of you to be able to tell,” he said, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. What the fuck was that? Why the fuck did he say that? That was not a normal thing to say.  

Instead of the scowl or glare he was expecting, Sparda laughed, voice echoing across the walls, startling Nero. “I suppose you would! I am still in Fortuna then?”

“Unfortunately.” Nero fidgeted, brushing his nose nervously. He needed to find a way to tell Sparda about his sons. It wasn’t fair that his grandfather was standing here, probably looking forward to seeing his family again when the only person left was Nero. He was definitely not the person Sparda wanted to meet, he’d be disappointed, the same way Vergil was. “Hey so—,”

“You have demon blood in you,” Sparda cut him off, so suddenly that Nero’s jaw clicked shut. He blinked at Sparda, unsure where this was going. 

“Y—yeah? Why, got a problem with that?” Shit, that was so unnecessary. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Sparda watched him, expression almost unreadable. Nero really hoped he wasn’t about to square up with him. He had a gun, two sets of claws, and enough rage to keep him running for a week straight, but he knew for a fact he’d still get his ass handed to if he tried. Sparda took a step forwards, and Nero tensed, left hand reaching for Blue Rose. Instead, Sparda reached out towards Nero, quickly pulling him against his chest in a tight hug. Nero sat, stunned, unable to fully process the situation he found himself in. One of Sparda’s hands came up to rest on the back of Nero’s neck. That annoying static in his head cleared, leaving him feeling completely safe for the first time in several months. 

“What the hell?” He muttered. He’d said it once, he’d say it again. This was so fucking weird. There was a comforting rumble coming from Sparda’s chest that had Nero relaxing even further. Fuck it, if he fell asleep here, so be it. He’d apologize to Kyrie in the morning. 

“Has no one taken the time to explain how demonic instincts affect you? You are clearly stressed. I’m shocked your family hasn’t helped,” Sparda said, keeping his grip on Nero firm but gentle. 

Nero laughed bitterly. “Hell no. My father and uncle took a one way trip to hell before anyone could be bothered to explain this shit to me.”

Sparda huffed, low and demonic. “Well, that’s rather irresponsible of them. Especially from your sire.”

“Yeah, well,” Nero shrugged. “Never said Vergil was a good dad. Bastard’s a deadbeat and he owes me child support if he’s gonna dip on me again.”

Sparda tensed, tightening his grasp on Nero. He heard him mutter a quiet, “Vergil?”

Shit. Oh shit. Nero still hadn’t managed to tell Sparda the truth. “Hey, so, moving past that. I gotta tell you something super important. And, uh, you probably won’t like it.”

That got his attention. “What is it?”

“Okay, so, I’m pretty sure you’ve been sealed away for like…30 something years. And uh, you’re also my grandfather.”

Just rip the fucking bandaid off. Yeah, this was going to go well. He didn’t handle Dante dropping the bomb about Vergil very well, the chances of Sparda handling this news well wasn’t very high. 

The rumbling in Sparda’s chest stopped as he sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”

There was a quiet keening whine that had Nero pressing closer to Sparda, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort. “Sorry. I figured it was better to just spit it out.”

“30 years? That can’t…my family. I’ve missed so much…” and then he pulled away from Nero, much to his disappointment. “You’re my grandson?”

There was hope bleeding into his voice, his eyes shining unnaturally in the dark cave. He released the hand on Nero’s shoulder, moving it against his cheek instead. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” He wanted to squirm, fidget, do something to look away from the demon staring at him with all the affection he’d dreamed of getting from his parents way back when he was a little kid. 

Damn, this guy really was a better parent than Vergil, and Nero had only known him for like, an hour. 

That was kinda sad. Apparently it was time for Nero to play his favorite game of am I that desperate for parental affection or is this actually weird?

Sparda didn’t say anything else for a long moment. Just standing there, holding Nero. And really, as great as it felt, it was starting to get awkward. “This is great and all but it’s like, 4 in the morning and I told my girlfriend I was going for a walk. If I’m not back soon she’s gonna freak out, so…we should probably go.”

Smooth. Real smooth. This is why the only person who hung out with him was Nico. 

“‘We’?” Sparda asked. 

“Well, I mean, not like you have anywhere else to go right now, right? Plus I’m gonna be super pissed if you just decide to walk out now, after I told you we’re family. I beat Dante and Vergil’s asses, I’ll fight you too if I have to.”

That got another laugh out of Sparda. A bit more subdued than the last one, but Nero would take it. “No need for that, my boy. I could not, in good conscience, leave my son’s nestling alone like this.”

“Cool, great—wait, what the fuck is a nestling?” 

“You are. I suppose the human equivalent would be an infant,” Sparda explained, studying Nero intently. 

“Gramps, I’m an adult man,” he huffed. 

“Yes, by human standards. But by demon standards, your demonic power still feels incredibly young, how long ago did you awaken it?”

Nero muttered out “a month,” under his breath, not liking the feeling of being scrutinized or treated like a child. That definitely didn’t help his current situation. Apparently, that caught Sparda off guard. 

“Only a month? And Dante and Vergil just left you?” 

Now, here’s the thing. Nero knew he could be petty. He would regularly try to get other kids in trouble at the orphanage after they started shit with him. No one ever believed him, but damn did he try. He’d also had a bad habit of pissing off the other knights by beating them in a sparring match that was so one sided it hurt. Credo used to scold him for it all the time. 

Right now, he had the opportunity to tell Sparda just how badly Vergil had fucked up. He could tell him about his arm, the Qliphoth, all of it. But he hesitated. V had said that Vergil just wanted to be protected and loved. He had been literally falling apart. So, what would’ve happened if Vergil hadn’t eaten the fruit? Dante wouldn’t have told him the truth, especially not if V and Urizen died before reforming. He’d still be stuck, not knowing if Dante was family or not, but being too scared to ask. Besides, Vergil had, in his own condescending way, said he’d be back. The poetry book Nero carried around now was proof of that. It’s not like he rejected his existence outright either, seemed like it was more shocking than anything. To be fair to Vergil, if Nero had been in his position, he probably would’ve been freaked out too. Imagine finding out you had an adult son after being in hell or dead for 20 years. He was still going to kick Dante’s ass for lying to him for the past 6 years and then he was going to give his uncle the biggest goddamn hug. 

Man that felt weird. He still hadn’t really processed the fact that he had an uncle!

“That’s a long and fucked up story that I don’t feel getting into right now. Short version, some shit happened, an idiot summoned the Qliphoth tree, and Dante and Vergil went to hell to destroy the roots,” he said, deciding to cut out most of Vergil’s bad choices. Leaving his own dumb decisions out as well. Fighting Urizen with one arm after waking up from a coma was not his brightest move. 

“WHAT? Who would dare raise that infernal tree?” Sparda all but snarled, low and demonic, sending a shiver down Nero’s spine. Sparda’s form flickered, and for a brief moment, Nero was staring at the image of Sparda’s true form. His claws flexed dangerously as the growl became more of a threat, which did absolutely nothing to set Nero’s mind at ease. 

“Vergil,” he said hastily, just hoping to get the word out before he lost his courage and Sparda inevitably decided Nero wasn’t worth his time if he couldn’t give him any answers. 

Sparda stilled, rage was quickly replaced by confusion, red eyes widening as he stared at Nero. He didn’t say anything, just stared. And Nero stared back.

“Vergil did? Why?” 

“I dunno, he wanted power? He was dying and needed to save himself? He’s a selfish asshole who doesn’t care about the people he hurts so long as he gets what he wants?” He’d had to watch Redgrave get destroyed for a month, all because of Vergil’s inability to just ask for help. “He’s not winning any ‘father of the year’ awards, that’s for sure.”

Maybe, if the jackass had asked for Yamato, Nero could’ve tried to help him from the get go. But nope, he decided that he had to take her by force. Nero missed her. 

“Dying?” Horror crept into Sparda’s voice as the weight of Nero’s words sunk in. 

“Yeah, he was falling apart when he walked into my garage, the guy looked like hell. Then the next time I saw him, he’d managed to split himself into his human half and demonic half, and V was literally turning to dust.”

“Do you know what did that to him? What could have caused it?”

“No clue. Dante didn’t tell me shit. Spent 5 years working for the guy and hanging out with him but he never said a damn thing about his past.” 

Or about his relationship with Nero. That stung more than anything else. Nero, as much as he hated to admit it, looked up to Dante. He’d thought that maybe, even if they weren’t related, Dante would be the father figure he still desperately craved. Turned out, Vergil was the worst possible option and Dante just hadn’t said a word because of that. Fuckers, both of them. 

(He missed Dante.)

“I’m sorry, my boy. If I had been around, perhaps I could have stopped them…” Sparda sounded so sad when he said that, and Nero felt like a dick. 

“We don’t…have to keep talking about this. We can just head back to my place and figure some stuff out after we’ve both gotten some rest.”

“Yes, that is a good idea. Before we go, I would like to ask, do you know if Eva is alright?”

“Eva?” Nero had to think for a minute. He recognized the name, struggling to place where he’d heard it. It wasn’t until he remembered the picture on Dante’s desk that he could place it. And then his heart dropped. Trish had told him that Eva was killed by demons a long time ago when he asked why she looked like the woman in the picture. It was one of the only things about Dante’s past that he knew. 

“Yes, my wife. If I’ve been gone for so long, she will surely be cross with me.” 

Oh. Oh this was gonna suck. “I–she’s…she’s gone. She was killed by demons.”

The way Sparda’s entire expression crumbled, leaving behind devastation was enough to make Nero sick to his stomach. Pain was written across his face. He could understand, to an extent. He’d almost lost Kyrie and that had been the worst day of his life, not even losing his arm was as painful as the feeling of losing her. He was always afraid that something would happen to her or the boys while he was gone, and he knew there was no way he’d manage to recover from that. She was his rock, his light, the person who gave him strength when he needed it most. If anything happened to her, Nero wasn’t sure what would happen to him, but it wasn’t good. So, hearing that his wife was dead, that he’d lost 30 years, and that his children were in hell, there was no way Sparda was okay. 

“No,” he whispered. “She’s dead? I promised her I would return…I didn’t mean for–,” he cut himself off with another keening whine, this one louder than before. He collapsed to his knees, staring at the ground. 

Nero knelt down in front of him as Sparda fell deeper into despair. He hesitantly reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. He let out a small noise, one he hadn’t expected to hear from his own mouth. It was a quiet chirp, it would’ve caught him off guard in any other situation. Sparda replied with his own soft growl, it sounded mournful and heartbroken. Tugging Sparda closer, Nero hugged him for the second time, wrapping both sets of arms around him. His wings offered a semblance of privacy, allowing the demon to mourn the loss of everything without worrying about staying on guard. 

They sat there for a long time, just holding each other, until Sparda finally pulled away. “Thank you, Nero. You should…head on back to your home.”

“Yeah, Kyrie is gonna have my head for this. There’s not really a guest room and I feel really bad asking you to hang out in the van but Nico stole the couch again, so there isn’t a great place for you to chill,” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He definitely needed to talk to Kyrie and Nico about this, they were both gonna flip their shit. 

“Pardon? You still wish for me to return with you?” Sparda asked. 

“Did I not make that clear earlier? You’re stuck with me, Gramps. First person I didn’t fight on sight in this family, consider me attached.”

Sparda chuckled, slowly rising to his feet. “I suppose I find myself attached to you as well, my boy. And some rest would do us both some good.”

“Sick. It’ll be quicker if we fly out of the forest, we’ll just have to be careful where we land. Gossip spreads around here faster than Dante can eat a pizza.”

Nero stood up as well, rolling his shoulders and stepping out towards the mouth of the cave. Sparda followed suit, demonic presence becoming more noticeable as he shifted into his true form. Nero turned to look at it closely for the first time. He already felt short next to Dante, the man was over 6 feet tall and built like a truck. Vergil was even taller, which Nero hated. But Sparda was even taller than both of them, he had to be over 7 feet tall and he was even broader and bulkier than Dante, especially in his demon form. Which was bullshit, by the way. How was Nero the shortest person in this family when he was average height? Fucking tall people. 

Sparda’s body had black and gold armored plating all across it, with two, giant beetle-like wings on his back. Large black and red horns curled around the side of his head pointing forwards. Red eyes gleamed in the darkness and Nero definitely caught sight of sharp fangs when Sparda smiled at him. 

Huh, kinda neat that they had similar horns though. Not that he had any intention of showing off his full Devil Trigger when that was a lot of energy he didn’t really feel like using up right now. Instead, he spread his wings once he was outside, and with a running leap, took off into the air with a few powerful beats of his wings. He could hear Sparda following after him, his wings buzzing loudly as they rose higher. Hopefully no demons decided to ambush them. Then again, they’d have to be pretty stupid to target the Legendary Dark Knight himself. 

The flight back was quiet, neither of them felt like yelling over the rush of air to be heard. Plus, Sparda was likely still grieving his family. Nero didn’t really want to leave him alone. By the time the city itself came into view, the sun had begun to rise. Landing on the outskirts, where none of the patrols would search, Nero allowed his wings to disappear in a flash of blue sparks. Sparda landed beside him, his form changing back into his human disguise. Sparda glanced at him curiously, waiting for Nero’s instructions. 

“Just pretend you’re supposed to be here. It’s early enough that most people won’t be awake and if I look annoyed enough, they’ll leave us alone,” he said, starting the trek back to his house. He kept a sharp glare on his face as he walked, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking every bit like the punk people thought he was. 

“You must have a reputation then,” Sparda said lightly, following behind. He stood straight, head held high, a mask of composure back on his face. 

“Oh yeah, some people still don’t like me even after I saved the city from the Savior statue. Foul-mouthed, bastard son of an outsider isn’t really a well liked combination here.”

Things had definitely gotten better over the years. People were friendly towards him and there were a lot less insults hurled his way, especially now that he was pretty much the only competent devil hunter on the island. The Order had gone to shit after Sanctus’ failed attempt at world domination, and those that remained struggled with higher level demons. Nero got called out more often than not to handle that stuff. And hey, they paid him well, so he wouldn’t complain. 

Sparda sucked in a sharp breath that morphed into a low snarl. He did not like that answer. 

“Look, it’s fine, we don’t need to start a brawl in the middle of the street.”

“You are far more forgiving than most humans I’ve met.”

“Eh, if I start shit, Kyrie will suffer for it. I don’t care what people think of me, but she deserves better than to be judged cause of me.”

“You’ve spoken of her quite a bit. Is she your mate?”

Nero snorted. “That’s one way to put it. She’s my girlfriend, we’ve been dating for a while.”

And she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. The universe gave a saint to an idiot and Nero would treasure her for as long as she wanted him. 

“Do you have plans to marry her?” Sparda asked, his curiosity actually really sweet. Not even Dante had been this interested in getting to know him. 

Nero chuckled nervously, blush creeping up on his cheeks. “Uh, yeah. Hopefully. I mean, I gotta propose and all but, yeah.”

Before Sparda could respond, a very loud, and all too familiar voice cut him off. “Where the hell did you wander off too?”

Good morning to you too, Nico, he thought. 

“Couldn’t sleep, went to the forest. What are you doing awake? I figured you’d still be trying to drown yourself in coffee,” he replied easily as he approached her. She had changed clothes, no longer in her usual devil hunting gear, she just wore an orange tank top and jean shorts. Her hair was a frizzy mess, like she hadn’t bothered to do anything with it, and she had a cigarette in hand. 

She jabbed it at him, a dark glare on her face. “Yeah? And how long ago was that, shit for brains? I woke up to Kyrie losin’ her damn mind.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to stay out all night. I’m fucking tired, Nico. And can you get that outta my face?”

He waved the smoke away, coughing softly as he did. The smell of smoke burned his nostrils as he tried not to breathe it in. 

“Then maybe don’t go for walks in the middle of the night, unarmed,” she crossed her arms. 

“Actually, I still have all four of them,” he replied, wiggling the fingers on his right hand. Keeping a straight face after that was hard. He could see Nico’s composure cracking too. 

“Then again, I guess I could’ve used a hand,” he pressed on. 

Nico burst out laughing at that. Score for him. Arm puns were hit or miss with her, and he’d never forget the time she programmed Punchline to hit him in the head if he told a bad pun. It was so worth it though. 

“Gawd! Just leave a note or something next time, idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Nico blinked a few times, looking over his shoulder. “Hey uh, who’s yer friend? Tall, dramatic, and spooky?”

Nero glanced over his shoulder to see Sparda watching in utter confusion. His eyes darted between Nero and Nico, clearly unsure how their friendship worked. “That's my grandfather. Gramps, that’s Nico. She’s a pain in the ass and I can’t get rid of her.”

“Yer granddaddy. Ain’t that—,” Nico’s eyes widened as she pieced the puzzle together. She covered her mouth with her hand before whispering out an “oh my gawd.”

Priceless. 

“You’re Sparda. Like, the Sparda. What the fuck?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, young lady. Are you a friend of Nero’s?” Sparda asked, holding out his hand for her. 

“U—uh, yeah. N—Nicoletta Goldstein, weaponsmith and infernal arms dealer. Nero and I are business partners,” she said nervously, grabbing his hand. Nero could see the way her hand shook, the tension in her body. She was way more freaked out than when she had met Dante, and that was saying something. 

“I can’t get rid of her and she extorts me,” Nero grumbled jokingly. “And she steals my food.”

“That what yer mad about? Aww boohoo. Remember what I said about cryin’?”

“If you call me a little bitch, I’m gonna drink all of your monsters in the van and I won’t buy you more.”

“Oh you’d better not, fucker. I’ll kick your ass six ways to Sunday.”

Good, less freaked. Nero didn’t need her to start panicking. “Sure, whatever you say, Nico.”

They were pretty close to the house now, Nico and Sparda speaking to each other enthusiastically. Sparda was fascinated by the weapons she made, and Nico loved running her mouth about any of her inventions.

“The Devil Breakers I made were to get Nero back in the game after he lost his arm, probably my best invention yet!” Nico cheered and Nero’s heart plummeted. 

Shit. 

He whipped his head around to see Sparda’s eyes go wide before glancing down at Nero’s arms. He, admittedly, hadn’t wanted to bring up the whole arm thing. He’d already done enough trauma dumping on Sparda, that felt excessive. 

“Your arm?” Sparda asked softly. 

“What? Did he not tell you?” Nico barreled on, ignoring Nero’s silent plea for her to shut her mouth. “Vergil didn’t like sharing his things, so when he found out Nero was holdin’ onto Yamato, he took it. And Nero’s arm with it. We still can’t get the bloodstain outta the garage.”

The worst part of this? Nico knew exactly what she was doing. She knew Nero struggled to place the blame on Vergil. She knew he wanted to hope for the best. So she took it upon herself to point out all the dumb shit he did, with no tact or hesitation. She was angry at Vergil too. Angry at him for attacking Nero, for leaving him in a coma. 

“Yeah, the guy was also dying and I don’t think he even noticed I was there,” Nero pointed out. “Plus, my arm grew back, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Riiiiiight, like you don’t have a panic attack anytime someone grabs your arm when you’re not paying attention. Someone’s gotta look out for you, bro.”

And damn it all, she was right. Nero would die before willingly admitting he thought of Nico like a sister, but sometimes it was nice to have someone who’d fight for him the same way he’d fight for everyone else. 

Kyrie was all soft words and gentle reassurances. Something that he needed more than anything. She stood up for him with a hard determination, but she preferred to deescalate a situation if she could. 

Nico was all fire and fury. Harsh words and quick insults. You piss her off, she’ll make your life miserable. She’d called a dude a cocksucker and almost hit him with the van for threatening Nero. That was one of the best moments he’d seen. 

Sparda did not appreciate Nico’s bluntness the way Nero did. In fact, he seemed very very unhappy with the direction of the conversation. “Vergil attacked you because you had the Yamato? What was that boy thinking? You are his son!”

Nero opened his mouth to defend him when Nico smacked the back of his head. 

“Quit defendin’ him. You don’t see me tryin’ to defend my old man.”

“Yeah but that’s cause Agnus sucked. I fucking hated him.”

“Me the fuck too.”

Sparda placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, drawing Nero’s attention away from Nico. She shot him a smug smirk. 

“Nero, why did you not tell me this before?”

He shrugged. “Figured I’d already given you enough crap to deal with, my own shit isn’t as important.”

“I disagree, my boy. I wish to get to know you and ensure that you are alright.”

Nero shuffled a little, leaning into Sparda’s hand slightly. “Yeah, alright. Maybe later though. We’re here.” He stopped in front of the garage, lifting the garage door easily. Nico must have left through the front door instead. The van sat where it had been parked the night before, nothing had changed in the few hours he had been gone. Thank god. He unloaded Blue Rose and placed her back on the table where she belonged while he was inside. 

Sparda seemed fascinated by everything inside, between Nero’s workbench and Nico’s workspace, it was always a mess in here. Tools and equipment strewn about haphazardly. At least they both knew where most of the stuff was kept around. Sparda stopped, staring at the sign on the van. 

“Devil May Cry?” He asked. 

“It’s the name of our business,” Nero answered, taking his boots off and leaving them in their usual spot. “We’re devil hunters.”

“Strange name for a hunting business,” he remarked, following Nero towards the door. 

“It was originally Dante's. We just run the mobile branch. Trish and Lady have taken over the main branch.”

“Hey, big guy, why doncha wait out here with me while Nero goes to talk to his girl. She’s gonna freak if you just waltz in,” Nico called, stopping Sparda in his tracks. 

“Are you certain? I could go introduce myself to her,” Sparda said with a confused coo. 

“Yeah, everyone here worshiped you. She ain’t gonna handle this situation all that gracefully.”

Nero chirped uncertainly at him. It was obviously an effective way to get Sparda’s attention, cause the demon whirled around to face him, eyes wide. “Look, I’ll be quick, explain the situation to her and then you can come meet her and the boys.”

Sparda sputtered, eyes somehow going even wider. “You have children? Am I a great-grandfather?”

“What? Oh! No no! We’re fostering them! We haven’t managed to adopt any of them yet!” Nero said, waving his hands a little wildly. He loved those kids, they were his and Kyrie’s in every sense except on paper. The problem came down to the fact that they were only fostering. Which meant that there was a chance they could be adopted by other families. Really, they were trying to adopt them, but it took time and money neither of them had at the moment. Nero hadn’t been getting a ton of jobs, spending most of his time on clean up, and the orphanage could only pay Kyrie so much. 

“Yet?” 

Nero blushed, turning away from Sparda to avoid meeting his eyes. “Yeah, we’re working on it.”

“Softy!” Nico called. 

Nero flipped her off, calling “screw off!” As he stepped inside. 

“Nero?” Kyrie called, rushing out from the kitchen. She looked frazzled, hair messy and clothes rumpled. She’s probably been pacing all morning. “There you are! I was so worried about you! Where did you go?”

“Mitis Forest. I…found something while I was there,” he started. Kyrie looked even more worried now, hands hovering over him as she looked for any wounds that hadn’t healed. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. Just, kinda shocking. So, try not to freak out.”

She nodded, taking his hand in hers. She’d started doing that more recently, like she was trying to reassure herself that he was okay. Alive. Not bleeding out in their garage missing an arm. 

“So, I found a cave and a couple of dead guys, probably cultists based on the creepy robes they were wearing and the fact that they definitely tried to either redo or undo a ritual but only ended up killing each other. But uh, I might’ve accidentally finished whatever ritual they were trying to complete. And I might’ve released Sparda from a 30 something year old seal that had trapped him.”

Kyrie blinked. Once. Twice. She didn’t say anything. She just stared at him, wide eyed and mouth open. 

“He’s in the garage with Nico.”

She still said nothing, and he could almost imagine the gears in her head turning desperately as she tried to understand what the hell was happening. 

“I figured I should give you a heads up before I just wandered in here with him.”

Kyrie was still frozen in place, her grip on his hand tightening. 

“I’m sorry for not coming back sooner.”

Holy shit, he’d managed to break her. Just, completely shut down. Uh, that’s awkward. 

“Kyrie?”

“You’re telling me that Sparda, the man we used to worship as a god, is outside. The Savior himself is in our garage,” she finally said, sounding a little frantic. Hopefully the boys were still asleep. 

“Y—yes?” 

“NERO!”

“What? What did I do?!”

“You brought the Savior to our house!”

“He’s my grandfather, what was I supposed to do? I panicked!”

There was a crash from the garage that had Nero’s hackles rising. It was followed by the sound of Nico yelling something and Sparda’s apologetic voice. 

Kyrie took a steadying breath, looking down at their intertwined hands. “What’s he like?”

Nero brought his attention back to her, chuckling fondly. He placed a kiss on her forehead, before tugging her towards the door. “He’s kind of a dork. And he really wants to meet you.”

She thumped her head against his chest with a fond sigh. “I can’t believe you managed to find the Sav—Sparda. Only you.”

He laughed. “I swear I don’t go looking for trouble.”

“You’re a trouble magnet,” she replied, pulling away. She never let go of his hand. Nero gave it a gentle squeeze before leading her out into the garage. 

He opened the door, stepping outside. Nico and Sparda both turned to look at him, staring like kids with their hands stuck in a cookie jar. In Sparda’s hand was Blue Rose. Nico was holding Red Queen, clearly showing off Nero’s weapons. A line of Devil Breakers were on the table as well. 

“Nico,” he growled, glaring at her. “Quit touching my shit.”

“Oh come on! I mess with yer sword once and I’m banned from touchin’ it for life!”

“Yeah, cause you almost lit the garage on fire! Give that to me!” He snapped, storming over to her and pulling his sword out of her hand. He propped it up against the van and turned towards Sparda, holding out his hand expectantly. 

Sparda reluctantly handed Blue Rose over. “My apologies. I was rather curious about these weapons. They’re not Devil Arms.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. 

“Nah. It’s a Durandal that I modded to hell and back. I installed a combustion engine in it to make it hit harder. And I designed the gun myself. Fires two bullets, one right after the other for some extra damage,” he said proudly, showing off Blue Rose. 

Sparda listened intently, excitement written on his face. 

“That sword is a menace and the fact that you stuck a combustion engine in it tells me you're insane,” Nico said, gathering the Devil Breakers and bringing them back inside the van. 

“Says the woman who makes mechanical arms from demon parts that blow up in my face,” Nero retorted. 

“That’s your fault! Maybe don’t be so rough with them!”

Kyrie giggled, far too used to Nero and Nico’s shenanigans. Sparda’s eyes lit up at the sound, waving at Kyrie enthusiastically. She squeaked, stepping closer to Nero. 

He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Gramps, this is my girlfriend Kyrie. Kyrie, this my grandfather.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear!” Sparda said, holding out a hand. 

Kyrie nervously adjusted the long shirt she was wearing, quickly smoothing out her hair. In Nero’s not so humble opinion, she looked perfect. The morning light reflected off her hair, making it look like a halo around her head. She was so cute, the way her cheeks started to turn a light pink with her eyes going insanely wide. She took Sparda’s hand, and Nero noted the subtle shake in hers. 

Instead of shaking her hand like Nero had expected, Sparda brought her hand to his lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Kyrie froze, laughing nervously as he released her hand. 

“Nero has spoken quite highly of you on our way here!”

“U—uh, it’s very nice to meet you as well, sir…”

“No need to be so formal. Please, just Sparda.”

Man this was going to be one hell of an explanation for the kids. Hell, Carlo still had no idea that Nero had demon blood in him. Kyle and Julio were old enough that they had started to figure something out but Nero was trying to avoid that conversation for as long as possible. How do you explain to a couple of kids that lost their parents to demons that their foster father was part-demon. Then again, if he explained that his grandfather was Sparda, they might actually not care. 

“Well, um, would you like breakfast, Mr. Sparda? I was going to make pancakes,” Kyrie said. 

“Oh FUCK YES!” Nico cheered. “I am starvin’!” 

Nero placed his head on Kyrie’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he breathed in her scent. “Your pancakes are the best.” 

“You look like you need some more rest, mister. You can have pancakes after you take a nap,” Kyrie said, leaning against his chest. 

“I’m fine, Kyrie, really. I grabbed a couple hours last night,” He tried to reassure, despite the exhaustion weighing down on him. No matter how badly he wanted to sleep, he’d been struggling. Falling asleep was a problem most of the time, and if he managed that then the nightmares definitely woke him up. He’d been reluctant to talk to Kyrie about it, not wanting to worry her over how tired he was. She worked so hard all the time, she didn’t need to deal with him on top of that. He could deal with a little exhaustion. 

She clearly didn’t believe him, if the look she sent over her shoulder was anything to go by. He was prepared to hold his ground, claiming that he was good and that he wasn’t dreading trying to fall asleep on his own, but the sound of footsteps creeping towards the garage door stopped her from saying anything else.

Especially when Nero called, “Morning, Julio.”

There was a soft yelp from the other side. Kyrie sighed as Nero slowly pulled away from her, missing the warmth and comfort she provided. The door creaked open and Julio poked his head out. He waved shyly, waiting to get the okay from Nero before stepping into the garage. Nero had made a rule that the kids couldn’t come in here without an adult present, considering the amount of weapons, hazardous materials, demon parts, and tools that would not be safe for a child to handle. With a wave of his hand, the 10 year old bounded over to meet him, all too excited to actually see him again after another week of being away. 

“Hi, Nero,” Julio said. 

“Hey, bud. Shouldn’t you be sleeping? It’s pretty early,” Nero replied, kneeling down so he was eye level with him. 

“I heard Miss Kyrie get up and couldn’t fall back to sleep.”

“I’m sorry, Julio, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Kyrie said.

“It’s okay,” he said, glancing over Nero’s shoulder. “I heard you guys talking to someone and got curious.”

Nero froze, whipping his head around to see Sparda give Julio a smile and a wave. Nico looked just as startled as he did, the two of them sharing a look that summed up their current predicament. 

Shit. Of all the times for them to share the single braincell they had in this house, now was definitely not the best time. Kyrie stiffened beside him as well, clearly just as caught off guard. 

“Hello, young man,” Sparda said, voice low and gentle, and Nero swore he could hear an odd trill behind his words. He was hit with the sudden, distinct, understanding that his grandfather was excited. 

“Um, hi? Who are you?” Julio asked, taking a step closer to Nero. 

“He’s, uh,” Nero fumbled, trying to come up with a good excuse.

“Nero’s granddaddy,” Nico cut in. Nero glared at her, and he watched her mouth ‘I panicked!’

There was a silent staring contest between them, where Nero tried to make his displeasure known while Nico responded with her own starstruck panic. 

Julio, shy, sweet, clever Julio, narrowed his eyes. He looked between Sparda and then Nero, pieces falling into place in a way Nero absolutely did not like. “He looks like Mr. Dante,” he said. 

Nero chuckled nervously, “It, uh, it might be the hair?”

“You look like Mr. Dante, Nero.” 

Nero choked. He’d known there was some kind of familial relationship between himself and Dante but he didn’t know what until now, but the fact that this 10 year old had figured it out was not reassuring. 

“Is Mr. Dante your dad?”

“No! No, he’s…not,” Nero said, voice trailing off at the end. He’d told Kyrie about Vergil but not the kids. He hadn’t wanted to, not yet at least. “He’s–Dante is my uncle.”

“You don’t sound happy about that,” Julio said.

“It’s complicated, buddy. I’m dealing with a lot of stuff and I’m more than a little angry at Dante for lying to me, but I’ll make sure to drag him over for dinner once he gets back from his trip.”

This wasn’t counting the ass kicking Nero was gonna give his dear old uncle when he showed back up. And the same applies to his old man. Both of them were going to square right the fuck up with him and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. 

Julio watches him for a moment, clearly not satisfied with the answer, but having learned long ago that Nero didn’t like talking about what was bothering him. Kyle hadn’t quite learned that lesson yet, far too curious about everything to drop topics unless something else grabbed his attention. 

“Julio, could you help me make pancakes this morning?” Kyrie cut in, putting an end to the awkward tension in the air. 

Julio looked up at her and nodded. “Yeah! Can we have chocolate chips in them? Please?” 

Kyrie laughed, leaving Nero a little breathless as he stared at her. He was so damn lucky. Really, he had no idea what she saw in him that convinced her to go out with him all those years ago, but man was he glad that she did. God, he loved her. He loved her so damn much. 

“Of course!” Kyrie led Julio back inside, glancing over her shoulder once more before closing the door.

“I’m gonna go make some coffee,” Nico declared, hurrying past Nero as well. 

Leaving him and Sparda alone again. With a cough, Nero looked at the door. “Um, you want some coffee, too?”

He was starting to crash. Maybe he should go lay down. He tiredly ran a hand through his hair, hoping to at least make it through the morning without worrying the boys. Then again, they were going to want to spend time with him, he and Nico had been gone for a week this time, and Kyle likely wanted to know what he was doing. He had all the energy Nero would expect from an 8 year old and then some. Then again, Nero was pretty sure he was even more rambunctious at that age and it was everyone’s problem. 

“Are you certain you don’t want to rest? There was weight to your mate’s words,” Sparda said, looking Nero over critically. “You certainly seem exhausted.”

“Believe me, I am, but I probably won’t be able to get any sleep, even if I tried.”

Sparda hummed softly, looking around the garage curiously. “Is there anywhere we could go without disturbing your family?”

“Uh, the van, I guess? Why?”

“Come with me, I’d like to try something,” Sparda said, opening the door to the van. Nero followed hesitantly, unsure where this was going. He closed the door behind and cringed when he noticed Sparda looking over the van. It was a mess inside, takeout boxes and empty cans littered the floor and table. It reeked of smoke and gunpowder. A mix of Nero’s mess and Nico’s. 

“Sorry bout the mess, we don’t usually have other people in here,” he muttered, kicking some of the cans to the side. He really needed to clean up in here. It was starting to look like Dante’s office and that was not something Nero wanted to achieve. 

“It’s alright. You spend quite a bit of time in here, then?” 

“Huh? Oh yeah, Nico and I travel a lot for work so we end up in the van for days at a time. Spent a month in Redgrave trying to deal with the Qliphoth. Besides, having her workshop here is helpful when I need new Devil Breakers,” he said, gesturing to the area in the back that held all of Nico’s equipment. He didn’t dare go back there, having learned his lesson early on that messing with stuff he didn’t understand usually ended up with it exploding in his face. He’d stick to doing maintenance on the van’s engine and his own equipment, thanks. 

Sparda looked around curiously, inspecting the van as if it held some important secret. Spoiler: it didn’t. It had Redbull, Monster, and leftover pizza from when they’d visited Devil May Cry. He finally sat down on the shitty couch, the leather creaking beneath his weight. He patted the seat beside him, inviting Nero over. 

Hesitantly, Nero sat beside him, watching him carefully. Whatever his plan was, Nero sure as shit hadn’t picked up on it. He glanced at Sparda out of the corner of his eyes, waiting for him to say something, anything really. 

“Nero, would you allow me to try something?” Sparda asked.

“Sure, whatever,” he huffed, leaning against the backrest. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, ignoring the scent of nicotine that clung to every inch of the van. Underneath it there was another scent, one Nero didn’t recognize but found himself relaxing to all the same. It was the scent of old books and a hint of sulfur, something so overwhelmingly associated with demons and hell itself, that it shouldn’t have been comforting. And yet, here he was, letting his guard down around a devil he’d known for a few hours. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wanted to laugh at the sheer stupidity of this situation, probably would’ve if it wasn’t for the arm that wrapped itself around his shoulders and tugged him against Sparda’s side. 

Nero’s eyes snapped open, a startled chirp leaving his throat before he could stop it. He opened his mouth to say something, ask what the hell he was doing, only to be silenced by loud purring. The rumble in Sparda’s chest stopped whatever thoughts were floating around in his head. The gentle vibrations had Nero relaxing even faster, going almost boneless in Sparda’s grasp. 

He wasn’t sure when his eyes had slipped closed again, but he realized after a few moments that he could hear another soft purr, drowned out by Sparda’s. It took him another second to realize it was him. 

Sparda chuckled, “I would do this when Dante and Vergil were nestlings. Seems it works on you as well.”

Nero couldn’t be bothered to respond, already nodding off. 

“Rest, my boy. You need it.”

Well, who was Nero to argue with that? He was so damn tired, The soothing vibrations and the constant purring was enough to finally get Nero to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in weeks. 

When Kyrie came back out into the garage to get Nero and Sparda for breakfast, she almost couldn’t contain the excited squeal seeing Nero curled up fast asleep under his grandfather’s arm. Sparda gave her a kind smile and placed a finger to his lips. She would put some pancakes aside for the two of them. Nero needed the rest.