Archive of Our Own

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Coming!” Kyrie called out from the kitchen.

She quickly dusted the flour from her hands onto her apron and turned away from the counter.

The second chocolate cake was almost ready to be glazed too. It just needed to cool down a tad because Kyrie had just taken it out of the oven.

The other one was already finished, waiting on a deep blue porcelain plate.

One cake for the boys’ afternoon snack, and one for the orphanage's upcoming fair and cake sale.

Hopefully the money they raised on Friday would be enough to take the children somewhere special. Maybe a little trip. Or to an adventure park. Something fun they could all enjoy together.

The thought brought a smile to her face, but she set it aside for the moment and hurried down the corridor toward the front door.

Her footsteps echoed softly on the worn floorboards as she wondered who could be visiting.

The mailman, perhaps?

It was still early in the afternoon, and she wasn't expecting anyone.

She wasn't expecting a parcel either, so…

Yes, this was somewhat strange.

Hopefully whoever was knocking wasn't bringing bad news or trouble.

Kyrie was alone with the children today. Nero and Nico had rushed off earlier after receiving an urgent call about a demon-sighting on the beach.

Whatever was awaiting her on the other side of the door, she would need to handle it on her own.

Taking a steadying breath, Kyrie pushed the handle down and opened the door.

Who—

Oh.

Her face immediately lit up.

Standing on the porch was a tall figure with a perfectly straight posture, his swept-back white hair gleaming beneath the summer sun.

Vergil.

Now that was definitely unexpected.

And very welcome.

“What a nice surprise!” she beamed, genuinely delighted to see her father-in-law.

Pale blue eyes met hers.

The resemblance to Nero was impossible to miss, and it made her heart flutter. Her man had truly found his father after so many years of wondering and longing to know... By the Order, even over a year after they had learned who Vergil was… it still felt nothing short of a miracle.

“I apologize for the disturbance,” The blue half-devil replied politely, inclining his head in greeting.

“On the contrary. Come in, please!” Kyrie laughed, stepping aside and pulling the door wide open for him.

“Make yourself at home!”

Kyrie smiled, her heart overflowing with joy as she turned and headed back toward the kitchen.

“I was hoping to speak to Nero. I brought the tools back,” Vergil said, setting down the case he had borrowed from their garage before following her deeper into the house.

His boots made almost no sound against the floorboards, and if Kyrie hadn't known he was right behind her, she would never have noticed his presence at all.

This had made her jump more than once already. 

“Oh, thank you. He's out on a job with Nico, but they should be back soon.” She glanced over her shoulder at the tall man. “At least I hope so.”

Reaching the back door, she opened it and found her three foster sons playing ball in the yard.

Dirt stained their clothes, and grass clung stubbornly to Kyle's hair.

“Boys! Guess who's come to visit?” she called with a smile.

The three of them paused mid-game, exchanging confused looks before turning toward the house.

The moment they spotted Vergil, their faces lit up.

Excited shrieks shattered the peaceful afternoon as they abandoned both their game and the ball, racing toward the house at full speed.

Kyrie barely managed to step aside before the whirlwind of small bodies burst into the kitchen and threw themselves at the stoic half-devil.

A laugh escaped her as Vergil was immediately swarmed by his grandchildren.

Small hands tugged at his sleeves and coat, all competing for his attention. 

Carlo stood on tiptoe with both arms raised, demanding to be picked up, while Julio and Kyle launched into a barrage of excited stories without pausing long enough to breathe.

Warmth bloomed inside Kyrie’s chest as she watched Nero’s mysterious father lift the toddler into his arms and patiently endure the flood of excited chatter surrounding him.

Kyle was practically bouncing up and down, too delighted by Vergil's visit to remember any of the boundaries Nero and Kyrie had tried to teach him.

Julio was calmer, as always, but even he was visibly excited. For such a shy boy, the animation in his voice was remarkable.

Watching her sons cling to their foster-grandfather with such enthusiasm, Kyrie felt a small pang of worry.

Not for the children.

But for Vergil.

Unlike Dante, who welcomed hugs, games, and affection with open arms, the older twin had never seemed comfortable with physical contact.

Kyrie didn't know the exact reason why.

But she could guess.

For someone to recoil from touch so instinctively, there had to be painful memories behind it. Memories she didn't dare imagine.

It made her heart ache every time she noticed the signs: the stiffness in his shoulders, the subtle tension in his frame whenever small arms wrapped around him.

What brought comfort to her children clearly demanded effort from him.

And yet Vergil was improving.

Remarkably so.

In only a few months, he had gone from stranger to family.

And somehow, despite his intimidating demeanor and sparse words, all three boys had unanimously declared him their favorite grown-up.

That revelation had stunned everyone.

Dante included.

Even more surprising, Vergil had never once denied Nero's and Kyrie's children the affection they so freely offered and demanded.

Oh, he still stiffened whenever they latched onto him, just as he was doing now, but he always allowed it.

And as Kyrie watched him today, he seemed far more at ease than he had been during his very first visits.

Not relaxed exactly.

But no longer enduring their affection quite so rigidly.

He was actually starting to respond to the children instead of simply enduring their endless curiosity and demands. Like picking Carlo up when the toddler approached him, or answering Kyle’s and Julio’s questions, no matter how pointless or strange those could be.  

A smile tugged at Kyrie’s lips as she watched them.

This was such a wonderful sight.

Still, perhaps it was time to rescue the blue half-devil from this current hostage situation.

“Who wants some cake?” Kyrie called, raising her voice enough to be heard over the noise.

“Me!” Julio and Kyle shouted immediately, while little Carlo clapped his hands and chirped in agreement.

Kyrie laughed. Just as expected.

“Vergil?” She asked, looking at her father-in-law. 

“No, thank you.”

The answer came as politely as ever.

“Tea perhaps? I just bought a new blend that's supposed to be exceptionally good.”

“With pleasure.”

With that, the procession migrated from the kitchen to the living room.

Chuckling softly to herself, Kyrie filled the kettle and reached for the box she had bought earlier that week.

The packaging was elegant, decorated with silver swirls over a soft lavender background.

Relaxing Herbal Tea
Made with Redgrave's finest chamomile and lavender.

Promotes peaceful sleep.

One tea bag per cup. Infuse for three minutes.

Rebuild Redgrave-City Program!
For every box purchased, one dollar is donated toward restoring the city's former green spaces.

Kyrie smiled.

That was what had caught her attention in the first place.

Trying something new while supporting a good cause felt like a worthwhile purchase.

Soon enough, the kettle whistled.

She poured the steaming water into two cups, dropped a tea bag into each, and arranged everything onto a tray alongside the cake plates and spoons.

When she returned to the living room, she found Vergil seated on the couch while Julio enthusiastically showed him a picture book.

Or rather, every page of the picture book.

Patiently.

Kyrie hid a smile.

She handed slices of cake to the boys before offering Vergil one of the cups.

“Careful,” she warned as she sat beside him. “It's still hot.”

The liquid had turned a deep golden color, a fragrant aroma escaping the steaming beverage.

She lifted her own cup and blew gently across the surface.

After a cautious sip, her eyebrows rose.

Oh.

That was surprisingly good.

The floral notes were present without being overwhelming, and there was... a faint sweetness lingering underneath the chamomile and lavender. Honey perhaps?

She took another sip.

Oh yes. She liked this.

“Mmm, this is really good.” She glanced toward Vergil, feeling surprised to like it that much.

“What do you think?”

“Indeed.” 

He studied the tea for a moment before taking another measured sip.

Kyrie smiled and returned her attention to her own cup.

Out of the corner of her eye, however, she noticed Vergil blink.

Then blink again.

A faint crease appeared between his brows as he looked down at the golden liquid.

“Where does this come from?”

“Redgrave, actually.”

A small chuckle escaped her.

“I bought it because of the program on the box. They donate part of the profits to help restore the city.” 

Vergil regarded her for a brief moment before looking back down at his cup.

“Hm.”

It wasn't much of a response, but before she could ask him if anything was the matter, the children quickly reclaimed his attention.

They abruptly pulled the half-devil into an animated discussion about magic and demons. One that, of course, required the man’s full attention.

Kyrie huffed fondly as she watched her boys’ openly awed expressions when he shifted his focus to them. 

She grinned. They could be so cute.

By the time she looked back at Vergil, she noticed that his cup was already empty while hers remained half-full. 

Kyrie was about to ask if he wanted more tea when a startled gasp from the children caught her attention.

Her gaze snapped toward Kyle just in time to see the boy's empty plate tip over the edge of the coffee table.

The porcelain seemed to fall in slow motion.

Crumbs scattered through the air and the spoon tumbled after it.

And then—

It vanished.

Kyrie blinked.

So did the children.

The plate was simply... gone.

How...?

Where...?

She kept staring at the spot the plate should have fallen to, dumbstruck.

What had just happened?

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy with confusion.

“Kyrie.”

Startled, she turned toward the familiar voice.

Vergil sat exactly where he had been moments before, one gloved hand extended toward her.

Kyle's plate rested neatly in his palm, with the spoon lying on top of it.

Kyrie stared again.

Had he... caught it?

“Wow,” was the only answer she managed.

Her brain still seemed to be catching up.

“Ohhhhh!” Julio exclaimed. “Was that magic?”

Kyle flinched, his head snapping up to the half-devil with a fascinated gleam in his eyes.

“Maybe.”

Vergil's answer was perfectly even, and something about his deadpan delivery made Kyrie huff a laugh.

Julio and Kyle gaped at him as though he'd just performed the greatest trick in history.

And maybe he had.

Magic or not, he had moved faster than any of them could follow.

That still felt close enough.

“Thank you,” Kyrie said warmly as she accepted the rescued plate.

She placed it safely back on the table before gathering the other ones onto the tray.

Best to remove them all before another dish attempted a dramatic escape.

“Would you like another cup of tea?” she asked her father-in-law.

She was half-tempted to make another for herself as well.

The blend really was divine.

“Yes.”

Kyrie smiled. 

It was highly unusual for Vergil to take a second serving of anything; he must really like the tea as much as she did.

Taking his empty deep-green cup, she left him to face the barrage of questions already building behind her.

“Can you do it again?”

“I wanna do magic too !”

“Can you teach us?”

She chuckled softly as she retreated to the kitchen, taking away the tray with all the fragile items gathered on it.

The poor man was bound to endure a full interrogation. The kids’ curiosity could be… endless. 

The kettle was still warm, waiting on the stove as she put the used plates away into the sink.

It only took Kyrie a minute to grab the tea-box and prepare another pair of cups.

She poured the hot water and watched the pale golden swirls form at the bottom of the porcelain. What a pretty color, truly.

Soon she was making her way back toward the living room, balancing the tray carefully in her hands while she strained her hearing, trying and failing to pick up on the children’s conversation.

Strange, but perhaps she was just too far. 

She made her way back through the corridor, watching the hot liquid slosh against the porcelain rim with every step she took. 

Maybe she had poured a bit too much water into them. Now she needed to balance everything with great care, or she’d spill tea everywhere…

As Kyrie entered the room, she found her children still gathered around their foster-grandfather.

Exactly where she had left them.

And yet, the atmosphere of the room seemed strange. Almost… eerily quiet.

When Julio immediately looked up at her, obviously searching for her gaze, Kyrie frowned.

There was something strange about his expression.

A deep confusion.

Or more like… fearful uncertainty.

The corners of her eldest son’s mouth had drooped, and he seemed to be waiting for her to explain something he didn't understand.

Was something the matter? Was Julio upset? But why?

Kyrie’s gaze shifted past her brown-haired boy.

And her heart dropped.

Vergil was slumped against the couch cushions, his head tilted limply to one side.

Carlo was sitting on the carpet while Julio and Kyle were still on the couch next to him.

Talking. 

Touching his sleeves. 

Trying to get his attention.

Yet Vergil didn't seem aware of any of it.

He’s … asleep?

The thought felt ridiculous.

Vergil would never simply fall asleep like this.

At least, not that Kyrie had ever seen.

Even after difficult hunts, when exhaustion lingered in the lines of his face, Vergil never slept here.

He was always alert.

Always watching.

“Boys?” she asked quietly as she set the tray down on the nearest surface.

Julio looked between her and Vergil.

“Kyrie?” he mumbled. “Is he… sick?”

The confusion in his voice only deepened her own.

Sick?

No. That felt downright impossible.

“Vergil?”

She stepped forward carefully, gently motioning the children aside.

But her father-in-law gave no response.

“Vergil?”

Still nothing.

A small knot tightened in her stomach, and the room suddenly felt too quiet.

Too empty.

There was no overwhelming aura anymore.

No tightly held posture.

No sharp blue eyes tracking every movement.

Just… a bone-deep feeling of wrongness that crawled down her spine.

Slowly, she reached out and rested a hand against his upper arm. The heavy fabric of his coat felt warm against her palm.

“Vergil?” she tried again, a little louder this time.

She expected some form of reaction.

A twitch.

An icy blue glare for disturbing him. Anything.

Instead, nothing happened.

He didn't acknowledge her touch; worse, he didn't seem to feel it at all.

The knot in her stomach tightened painfully.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

“Is he okay?” Kyle asked in a small voice.

Kyrie swallowed. She… didn't know.

And the realization frightened her more than she wanted to admit.

Could he have been secretly injured?

Vergil was stubborn enough to hide almost anything, but… even now, as her eyes swept over him carefully, Kyrie found no obvious wounds.

No trace of blood or anything that could explain his unresponsive state.

Yet the sight of him unsettled her all the same.

His features were completely slack.

His posture lacked its usual rigid control.

Even his breathing—

Kyrie's breath caught.

For one horrible second, she couldn't tell if he was breathing at all.

Kyrie leaned closer, desperately searching for the rise and fall of his chest.

She couldn't see it.

“Vergil!?”

Her voice cracked.

She grabbed his arm with both hands and shook him.

Hard.

“Kyrie?” Julio's voice trembled somewhere behind her. “W-What's happening?”

She barely noticed the kids’ distressed whimpers at her back. Her entire focus was on the unresponsive half-devil beside her.

“Wake up!”

She seized the front of his coat and gave him another desperate shake, but his body suddenly tipped sideways.

Kyrie gasped as he collapsed against her at once, all of his weight giving way without resistance.

Like a puppet with its strings cut.

Oh God.

The children all gasped.

Kyle stumbled backward so quickly that he bumped into the coffee table.

A frightened whimper escaped Carlo before the toddler's face crumpled and tears began to spill down his cheeks.

Kyrie looked toward him for a split second, but she couldn’t tend to the toddler right now. Not until she knew what was wrong with her father-in-law.

She looked back down at Vergil.

Gritting her teeth, she wrapped both arms around his broad frame and struggled to maneuver him onto the couch until he was lying on his back.

The sheer dead weight of him made her stomach lurch violently.

Vergil was always so controlled and precise, and yet now he yielded to every push and pull without the slightest resistance.

As though he wasn't there at all.

“No, no, no...”

The words escaped her before she even realized she was speaking, panic escalating inside her.

“Please...” she whispered, terrified.

Her hands hovered for a second over his chest before she reached for the neckline of his clothes.

Kyrie’s trembling fingers found the zipper of his vest and grabbed it, or tried to, but the small metal tab kept slipping from her grasp.

“Come on...”

She could barely see through the tears gathering in her eyes.

No. 

Not again.

Her hands were shaking too badly.

Don't take him away.

Finally getting hold of the small metal zipper, she peeled the blue fabric away from his throat.

Her fingers pressed against the side of his neck.

But she couldn't find a pulse.

Panic surged through her so violently it stole the air from her lungs.

"No..."

Her hand slipped.

Kyrie immediately tried again, shifting her fingers, pressing harder against his warm skin.

Nothing felt right.

She couldn't tell if the pulse she felt belonged to Vergil or to herself.

Her own heartbeat was pounding far too loudly, drowning out everything.

"Please..."

Not him too.

The whispered prayer escaped before she could stop it.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, escaping her control.

"Vergil?" she whimpered.

Nothing.

Carlo was still wailing on the carpet while Julio and Kyle stood frozen nearby, staring at her with wide, frightened eyes.

Eyes that demanded answers. 

"Kyrie...?" Julio's voice was barely audible.

But Kyrie couldn't look at him.

Couldn't look at any of them.

Her gaze remained fixed on the man lying motionless on the couch, denial and grief battling mercilessly inside her mind.

He had walked into her home less than half an hour ago.

And now—

Now—

A strangled sob escaped her throat.

"He's..." Julio swallowed hard, his voice shaking.

"He's... dead?"

She closed her eyes, trying to block what lay before her. Trying to shield herself from what she could see.

Trying to postpone the moment the children’s hearts would break alongside her own.

But Kyle’s gasp cut through her thoughts like a razor, and she looked back.

“No!” The little boy shouted.

He pushed past his brothers and Kyrie, running straight to the couch.

Kyle hoisted himself up on it until his arms wrapped around Vergil’s neck, his small frame sprawled on top of the half-devil.

Kyrie’s middle child buried his face in the deep blue vest, rejecting the cruel reality.

And her heart just shattered.

“He’s okay!” The boy shouted, his voice furious but muffled.

Kyrie’s lower lip wobbled as she looked at her sweet boy. She fought to keep her composure and find something to say...

But it was all in vain.

Her throat was clogged, her voice was gone.

Then Kyle’s small frame started to shake as he kept holding on to Vergil until the first sob escaped his tiny body.

His pain tore another strangled sob from Kyrie’s chest.

She covered her mouth with her hands, trying desperately to hold on, but the pain inside and her grief were spiraling out of control.

Oh Kyle…

“He’s just napping!” The boy yelled, but his voice broke on the last word. 

“He’s j-just…”

A wet hiccup tore out of him. Painful and raw.

He clung to the blue half-devil for dear life, but each new sob rattled his entire frame over and over.

Kyrie’s legs gave out, and she crumbled to the ground.

How could this happen? 

Vergil had been just fine a moment ago.

They were having such a wonderful time…

Oh God.

A new wave of tears blurred her vision, her face already drenched.

What was she supposed to do now? 

How was she supposed to tell Nero? Dante?

How was she supposed to comfort the children when her own heart was in shambles?

“W-why…?”

A shaky word escaped Julio before he came undone too, big tears pooling in his deep brown eyes.

Her eldest boy tried to keep them at bay but in vain. He started sobbing too, biting his lower lip to keep quiet while his breathing hitched.

His pain was like sandpaper on Kyrie’s bleeding heart, Carlo’s distressed wails only crushing her further.

“I-I’m s-sorry… I…” She mumbled incoherently, unable to find anything to soothe them.

She didn’t even know who she was apologizing to. 

To her children? For the new loss of a family member? 

To Vergil himself? For failing to help him?

To everyone?

Sobbing even harder, she clumsily managed to gather Carlo and Julio in her arms, holding them close against her chest. 

She looked up at Kyle, but he turned his head away, clinging to his foster-grandpa and refusing to let him go.

“No… no… wake up! Wake up!” The boy kept shouting, tiny fingers fisting the silver-lined coat hard enough to grow white.

His desperate pleas sent Kyrie into a new fit of sobs, and she dragged the rest of the children in her wake.

They all kept crying their eyes out, bundled up together on the living-room floor.

Kyrie lost track of time, too lost in the pain to notice the discreet sound of footsteps somewhere deep inside their home.

But then, the door leading into the garage burst open with a bang, and Nero’s voice made Kyrie’s heart skip a beat.

“Hey! We’re back!”

“Hey! We’re back!”

As soon as Nero entered the corridor that linked all the ground floor's rooms together, he noticed that something was wrong.

He paused, trying to identify the source of that feeling.

For a few seconds, he couldn't pinpoint what exactly was bothering him.

Nothing seemed amiss at first glance.

The air was thick with the warm smell of chocolate cake. The corridor was empty, just like the kitchen on his left, and toys lay scattered across the floor exactly as they had been before he left to inspect the beach.

Everything looked normal.

Then, as his gaze drifted back toward the front door, he noticed the toolbox waiting beside it.

The one he had lent Dante and Vergil to fix the Devil May Cry's leaking bathroom.

Oh.

A small spark of hope flickered inside his chest.

Was Vergil here?

His father's visits were rare, especially unannounced ones. A tiny voice dared to whisper that perhaps Vergil had wanted to see him, and that returning the tools had merely been an excuse.

The thought made his heart flutter.

But the feeling vanished the moment he picked up on Carlo's desperate wails in the distance.

Nero's heart lurched.

“Carlo?”

He was already moving before he finished calling.

Why was the baby crying like that? Had he hurt himself? Was he scared?

And where was Kyrie? She would never leave Carlo alone if he was this upset.

Nero followed the sound straight to the living room.

But when he turned the corner and found a cluster of sobbing figures gathered beside the couch, it felt as though the ground had opened beneath his feet.

Kyrie and the boys were all there, huddled together on the floor.

The sound of their crying struck him like a physical blow.

For a second, he just stood in the doorway, too stunned to react.

“Kyrie?”

She looked up at him, and the grief on her face made his stomach twist.

Why are they crying?

What happened?

“N-Nero...?”

Kyle's broken voice tore his attention away from Kyrie.

His gaze followed the sound until it settled on the couch.

The boy was sprawled over a still figure clad in navy blue threaded with silver.

A familiar sight.

Someone who would never have allowed himself to lie there like this if he had any say in the matter.

Vergil.

Incomprehension made Nero’s mind go blank for a moment, and he could only keep staring.

What…?

Something’s wrong.

“Nero... I… I’m so sorry…” Kyrie’s broken voice snapped him out of his shock.

His eyes shifted back to his lover’s devastated expression.

Her pain was tearing him apart from the inside, and Nero moved to reach her before he even consciously processed it.

He came to kneel at Kyrie’s side in a blink, his heart hammering so hard that he felt dizzy. 

Why was she apologizing? 

Why was Vergil lying on the couch? 

Why was everyone crying like…

Like someone just…

… No.

He met Kyrie’s reddened gaze again, her tears leaving wet tracks over her cheeks.

No. 

“H-he was doing just fine, and I…” She mumbled, her breath catching in her throat.

“When I came back… h-he was…"

"He was already…”

Nero's mind refused to follow the sentence to its conclusion.

He pulled Kyrie and the two children into his arms anyway, holding them tightly as his heart threatened to tear itself apart.

Her words made no sense.

They couldn't.

Vergil couldn't be—

No.

He looked back toward the couch, feeling as though he was balanced on the edge of a nightmare.

This had to be some kind of mistake.

He gave Kyrie a light squeeze and kissed her temple before he slowly let her go and rose, his hands trembling as he reached for Kyle.

He grabbed the boys’ arms and gently unhooked them from Vergil’s neck before picking him up and giving him to Kyrie.

Wet sniffs and sobs echoed at Nero’s back as he watched his father, heart beating so hard he was sure it would soon break his ribs. 

Vergil couldn’t be… gone.

There was no way…

Nero reached out almost despite himself, his fingers aiming for the exposed skin of Vergil's throat. 

He feared the moment his fingers would make contact.

As though touching Vergil's skin would somehow make everything real.

As though it would hurt more than he could bear.

And yet, he still did it. He braved the fear and dread howling inside his mind.

His fingertips pressed against Vergil’s neck, searching for a pulse.

Nero’s entire body was coiled tight like a spring as he closed his eyes and prayed. 

He waited.

But he felt nothing. 

His chest twisted in pain.

He forgot how to breathe, small white flies swarming the edge of his vision.

But then, after what felt like an eternity…

Ba-thump.

One heartbeat. 

Strong.

Unmistakable.

Nero’s knees threatened to give out.

He braced himself against the couch’s cushions to steady himself, the room spinning around him for a moment.

He shuddered and took a deep breath to calm down. 

Damn. This had just scared him in the worst possible way.

Nero rubbed a hand over his face to get a grip before leaning in again, needing to smother the last traces of doubt still clinging to his mind...

He let his face come a hair’s breadth away from Vergil’s. Waiting again.

And when the softest flow of air brushed against his cheek, all tension snapped at once.

“He’s… he’s breathing.”

Saying the words out loud finally shattered the haze of panic clouding Nero's mind.

Another warm breath brushed against his cheek.

Then another.

Regular.

Steady.

Real.

Relief crashed through him so hard his vision blurred for a moment.

Thank fuck. 

A heartbeat and steady breathing. This should be enough to guarantee that Vergil would pull through, whatever was wrong with him.

Taking another deep, shaky breath, Nero pushed himself back up until he was sitting on the edge of the couch, and then he turned around.

He looked at Kyrie, meeting her huge wet eyes that were begging him to confirm what she had just heard.

“He’s alive.” 

She stared at him, obviously not daring to believe his words just yet. She kept the kids tucked close to her, the boys looking at him with a mix of confusion and hope that hurt.

Nero let himself down on the carpet next to the rest of his family, embracing them all, trying to soothe their panic and pain.

“He’s okay.” He repeated, both for his and their sake.

Relief hit Kyrie so hard that her shoulders sagged, and fresh tears pooled in her eyes. 

“It’s okay, he’s breathing fine. His heart is beating.”

He whispered the words again and again, gently rocking them back and forth.

Sobs died down, replaced by softer sniffing sounds and increasingly hopeful stares.

“W-Why isn’t he waking up?” Julio asked, the shy boy’s head resting on Kyrie’s collarbone, still instinctively searching for her comfort.

“I’m not sure. Can you tell me what happened?” Nero asked gently, looking from the eldest to Kyle, and then up to Kyrie.

She blinked hard and breathed in deeply, visibly fighting to regain her composure when she had been so devastated just a moment ago.

Nero's heart fluttered as he watched her pull herself together. The grief was still there, but the stubborn, compassionate determination he loved so much was slowly returning to her eyes. 

“We… We were having an afternoon snack… huh, cake and tea.” She started to explain; her eyes going from the couch to the table and then to the doorway as she tried to recall what she remembered.

“We were asking him to do some magic again.” Kyle provided, leaving Kyrie’s arms to get closer to the couch again. 

“But then…he stopped speaking…” 

“Yes, and then he didn’t seem to hear us at all anymore,” Julio added to his little brother’s story. 

“And then his eyes closed…”

Nero looked at his boys in confusion, his brow knitting up in worry and incomprehension. So his father had just… lost consciousness? Just like that?

There had to be a reason… 

Was he injured? Nero couldn’t smell blood on him but… that was the only explanation that came to mind.

But for Vergil to get hurt, it would require either a very difficult hunt or a fight with Dante. And in both cases, the damage would have had to happen right before he came over, or he would have healed already…

Nero felt another thread of tension rise inside him as his eyes trailed to the landline phone in the entrance.

There was only one way to know. And only one person who might know what to do.

“I gotta call Dante.” He muttered to Kyrie.

She nodded in agreement, and then Nero stood up and exited the living room. 

He picked the receiver up and dialed for the Devil May Cry. 

He nervously waited while the call rang until his uncle finally answered.

“Devil May Cry.”

“Dante.” 

“Kid? What’s up? I thought your old man had come to see you?” The legendary hunter asked, his words colored with a hint of surprise.

“Yeah, well… that’s why I’m calling. Listen…” Nero took a deep, shuddering breath, hoping this wouldn’t end up in another catastrophe.

“Did you two have a fight, or something? Or did Vergil take a hit on a hunt before coming over?” 

The silence on the other end of the line was so heavy that Nero feared the worst for a moment.

“Nope, not that I know of.” Came Dante’s careful reply.

“Why?” 

Nero closed his eyes and exhaled slowly through his nose. Shit. This had been his only lead…

“He’s unconscious. And I have no clue what’s wrong with him.”

Another deafening silence was all that met his words, but then…

“I’m on my way.” 

The line went dead immediately, leaving Nero to look at the receiver in total confusion.

The dial tone buzzed in through the silence, and he could only blink in disbelief.

Dante hadn't even asked any questions. 

And wait… He was coming? All the way to Fortuna? But without the Yamato…

Nero put the receiver back down, mind heavy with confusion and surprise.

Even if the red twin hopped on the first plane, he wouldn’t be there before tomorrow morning at best. Maybe later.

Nero returned to the living room and found Kyle and Julio sitting on the couch next to Vergil while Kyrie paced the room like a lion in a cage with Carlo in her arms.

Shit.

He looked at his traumatized children and lover, and then at his unconscious father.

What were they supposed to do now?

Eight hours later, the sun had long since set, and Nero was still keeping watch over his father, anxiously trying to nudge him back to consciousness.

He kept talking to him.

Touching his face.

Trying to coax some kind of response out of him.

But no matter what he did, Vergil remained stubbornly unresponsive.

His pulse was very slow but steady, his breathing easy. Alive.

Healthy even, as Nero had failed to spot any sign of injury or trauma whatsoever.

Nero sat beside him, running out of things to try. 

It was past midnight already, and the children had reluctantly gone to bed a few hours ago.

Only Nero’s promise to come wake them up should Vergil snap out of it had allowed them to go to sleep.

But until now… there was no sign of improvement.

Kyrie was still up despite the late hour, but she had excused herself to change into her pajamas.

Nero could track her soft footsteps upstairs with every discreet crack of the floorboards.

A soft sniffing sound sometimes still escaped her.

Her distress at Vergil’s state was lingering despite the knowledge that he was still alive after all.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A sharp knock -more like hammering, really- broke the silence. 

Nero’s head snapped toward the front door of their home, his gaze leaving his father’s motionless silhouette.

He stared at the corridor in disbelief.

The knock came again. Insistent.  Demanding.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It couldn’t be…

Nero glanced at the clock on the wall. 

There was no way…

He rose from the couch and went to open the door, staring in shock as his eyes confirmed what his brain deemed impossible.

Dante was there.

Hunched over.

Drenched in sweat.

Breathing hard enough that his chest rose and fell visibly beneath his shirt.

For a second, Nero could only stare.

There was no way he could have made it to Fortuna this quickly.

“What the fuck…” Nero muttered in disbelief. “How did you…”

“Flying.” Dante huffed out hoarsely, fighting for a proper breath.

He straightened clumsily and immediately took a step forward, slipping underneath the doorframe.

“Where is he?” He asked, not bothering with any formalities.

“Living room,” Nero muttered, and the man pushed past him immediately.

Shit.

Dante was visibly spent.

Nero’s stomach churned. 

He couldn't remember ever seeing him this worried. 

Nero followed the hunter into the living room until they came to a stand at the edge of the couch. 

His uncle immediately knelt beside his brother, searching for injuries with the same desperate thoroughness Nero had hours earlier. 

“Verg’?” Dante called out, but just like before, Vergil was deaf to his words.

“Nero? Who’s there…?” Kyrie’s voice echoed from the staircase while her steps grew closer.

“Oh!” 

She stared at Dante,  just as surprised as Nero was.

But the hunter didn’t seem to notice Kyrie joining them in the room.

He gave his brother's shoulder a firm shake.

Nothing.

And then his hands moved to Vergil's throat, checking for a pulse while Nero and Kyrie watched him in silence.

They had already tried the exact same thing many times over.

But always in vain.

“Vergil?” Dante muttered, his hand cupping his cheek and gently turning his head to the side.

“You’re always bitching when I nap, and now you’re stealing your kid’s couch?” 

The joke fell flat against the knot of tension still twisting inside Nero's chest.

“We already checked on him… h-he seems perfectly fine. Just… asleep.” Kyrie muttered, her voice catching on the words.

Dante turned toward her, his expression carrying a seriousness that immediately set Nero on edge. 

“There’s one thing you haven’t tried…” He said, and Nero frowned in incomprehension.

He looked at Kyrie and met her equally confused gaze before they both looked back at Dante.

What was he talking about? 

“ ‘kay, you mind taking a step back? Both of you?” The hunter asked them as he straightened to his full height.

Feeling lost, Nero retreated a short distance away with Kyrie.

“What are you…” He mumbled.

But before he could even finish his sentence, Dante’s sword appeared in his right hand with a fit of red sparks.

Nero's heart leapt into his throat.

The red twin moved.

One sharp flick of the wrist.

The tip of his devil sword plunged straight toward Vergil's throat.

Nero lurched forward, hand reaching out to stop him, but he was too far. Too slow.

He watched the blade fall inexorably, Kyrie’s terrified scream barely registering at the back of his mind.

But the sharp edge stopped a breath away from Vergil’s throat, hovering so close Nero didn’t even dare to touch Dante in fear of destabilizing him.

“Damn it.” The hunter muttered as he drew his weapon back and let it vanish into his body.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” 

Nero’s temper exploded right on the spot as he crossed the final step separating him from his uncle and grabbed his coat.

A muffled wail echoed upstairs, and his anger only intensified. Great. Now the children were probably all awake and spooked.

"Relax, kid,” Dante answered flatly, shrugging out of Nero’s hold easily. 

“I was checking for his survival instincts. But they seem dormant too.” 

Nero forced himself to take a deep breath, counting to three inside his head.

“You could have warned us.” He gritted out.

“No. Because it would have warned Verg’ too.” 

Fuck.

Dante was right.

Vergil should have reacted.

Anyone with a shred of self-preservation would have.

The fact that he hadn't sent a fresh wave of dread crashing through Nero's chest. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Kyrie asked, her voice weak and broken.

Nero’s eyes trailed back to the half-devil that hadn’t moved through the entire ordeal. If Dante had been serious, Vergil would have died right there. 

And that left Nero terrified.

“I’m not sure, Kyrie. I’m gonna need you to tell me exactly what happened. Every last detail you remember.”

Another distressed cry echoed upstairs, and Nero’s heart ached. 

Shit.

He couldn’t leave the kids alone… he shouldn’t have shouted, but it was too late now.

Heavy stomping erupted in the corridor, and the door leading into the garage burst open. 

Nero’s attention shifted to the living room’s doorway as Nico appeared, eyes glassy and furious, red lines marring one cheek. 

Fuck. He must have woken her up too.

“You shout like that one more time, and Imma shoot you right in the fuckin’ f… Oh.” 

Her expression turned from furious to surprise in an instant, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. 

Yeah. He might have forgotten to tell her what had happened. 

“Nico, I need your help with the kids…” Nero murmured as he walked out of the living room, dragging the gunsmith upstairs.

Nero knew Kyrie could explain what had happened far better than he could anyway.  

His best friend followed his gaze to the couch.

The color drained from her face.

For a second she simply stared.

Then she shook herself and gave a sharp nod.

They both went upstairs, Nico taking care of Carlo while Nero went to Julio and to Kyle.

Dante was scared.

Not of losing a fight.

Not of dying.

He knew dread. He knew grief. He knew what it felt like to throw himself into a battle fully expecting not to walk away from it.

But this?

This was different.

Vergil was lying unconscious on his son's couch, and Dante had absolutely no idea why.

That alone was terrifying.

His brother had always been a light sleeper, a part of him perpetually aware of the world around him.

It had only grown worse after everything they had survived.

But now, there seemed to be no way to wake Vergil up, and Dante had no idea why.

“He… He came by this afternoon to bring the tools back.” Kyrie’s voice cut through his thoughts, forcing him to focus.

Something had happened, and she might be the only one who could help him figure out what.

“He looked just fine. The boys were so happy to see him too…” The poor girl’s voice caught slightly on the words.

The tip of her nose and her eyes were still red, betraying how much she must have been crying.

“I was baking before he came by, and one cake was meant for the afternoon snack, so I asked Vergil if he wanted some of it.”

“Did he eat some?” Dante asked softly, his hands reaching out to touch Kyrie’s shoulders, trying to ground her in the present and comfort her.

“No, no, he didn’t. I gave the boys some of it, and made some tea.” 

She shuddered as her eyes fell on Vergil again.  She swallowed thickly before shifting her attention back to him.

“Kyle accidentally dropped his plate, but Vergil caught it before it could touch the ground. That's when I decided to bring the plates back to the kitchen…”

“And when you came back, Vergil was unconscious?”  Dante asked, feeling his stomach drop.

Nothing in her tale seemed useful; if anything, everything pointed to a nice cosy moment.

“Y-yes, I came back with more tea, and he was already asleep.” She confirmed.

“Okay, did you notice anything out of the ordinary? Anything that felt strange? A smell? Heat? A sound?” Dante tried to guide her; maybe there had been something unusual she couldn’t recall with all the stress.

“No, nothing…” She mumbled.

Shit.

Dante tried again; there had to be something. 

“Did Vergil say anything? Did he seem strange to you? Act weird?”

Kyrie’s brow furrowed, and her eyes were lost in memory for a moment before she started to speak again.

“No… No, he was… like always. He asked for Nero, and then interacted with the boys a lot. He liked the new tea blend I bought…”

New… tea? 

Could that be the reason? Had there been something inside the tea?

Poison?

Dante's heart lurched in alarm. Anything strong enough to knock Vergil out should have been devastating to a human. 

“Kyrie, did you drink the tea too? Did it taste strange? Are you feeling any side effects? Headaches? Nausea? Anything?”

He started to look her up and down with far more attention, searching for any sign that she might be unwell.

“What? No, no… I’m fine… I drank it, sure, but everything felt normal. It’s just chamomile tea.”  She looked confused but healthy, and yet Dante couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Do you have some of it left? Can I see it?” He asked.

That tea seemed to be the sole element that had been out of the ordinary. He had to inspect this.

“Sure… I’ll go get the box. Our cups are even still there. Vergil’s the green one.” She pointed out a tray that lay abandoned on a dresser next to the doorway.

Dante let go of Kyrie and immediately went to the cups while she went to the kitchen.

He looked down at the two cups. Both were filled with deep golden liquid, the tea bag still inside the water.

The porcelain was cold to the touch.

The cups must have been sitting there ever since Kyrie had found Vergil unconscious.

He picked Vergil’s one up and gave the tea a cautious sniff. 

A very strong scent of chamomile and lavender met his sensitive nose.

Sweet and thick.

Maybe too thick.

Nothing nefarious but… behind the heavy floral scent was something else. Almost… metallic?

Blood?

Dante blinked in surprise as a new wave of tension rose inside his chest.

“Here,” Kyrie said as she entered the room, extending a pale purple paper box with silver letters on it. 

Dante put the cup back down, and his eyes took in the details.

Chamomile tea from Redgrave.

A fresh wave of dread coursed through him.

Redgrave.

Blood.

An unconscious Vergil.

This was starting to feel like far more than a coincidence.

“Kyrie, I need you to prepare some tea. Just like you did for Vergil.” 

The girl looked at him with huge eyes that flew down to the box and then back up. She paled, understanding dawning on her.

Without a word, she turned around and immediately went to the kitchen.

Dante followed her, taking Vergil’s cup along.

The kettle was on the stove, and soon a new cup was filled with hot water and one tea bag.

He picked the new cup up, golden swirls forming at the bottom of it.

He smelled the beverage carefully, but the metallic scent was barely there.

Dante had to actively search for it.

Vergil's cold cup, on the other hand, reeked of it.

“Is there something wrong with the tea?” Kyrie’s small voice brought his attention back to the kitchen.

He looked at her again, the little gears inside his brain working and putting together what might have happened.

Vergil and Kyrie had drunk the same tea.

Yet Kyrie was perfectly fine while Vergil had been unconscious for hours.

The tea came from Redgrave.

And it smelled faintly of blood.

Dante's stomach sank.

He would bet good money that the plants had been grown on the remains of the Qliphoth.

If he was right, there were only two possibilities.

Either the tea affected demons differently than humans…

Or something about Vergil made him uniquely susceptible to it.

Well… there was only one way to know.

“Vergil drank the entire cup?” Dante asked Kyrie.

Her eyes darted from him to the cup and then back again, and then she nodded.

"Okay. Let's settle this."  He muttered under his breath. 

Taking the hot cup, he took two sips of the tea, leaving the rest. If one cup had knocked his twin out, then this should be more than enough to know if the tea was indeed the reason for Vergil’s state.

Kyrie gasped sharply.

“Are you crazy!?” She hissed in outrage, and Dante huffed fondly.

“Yes, but tonight? Just... worried.”  He conceded, and he looked at Kyrie, watching many emotions pass over her delicate features.

Disbelief, pain, anger, worry, affection.

All of them came and vanished so fast. And all were aimed at him. 

Damn.

Twenty years ago, nobody would have cared if he'd done something dangerous 

Dante’s heart ached. It was so strange to have people around who cared.

“What happened?” 

Dante turned around as Nero’s voice cut through the moment. The kid and Nico were back, a deep, worried frown on their faces.

“Dante thinks the tea is why Vergil doesn’t wake up, and he just drank it!” Kyrie exclaimed, and she seemed a second away from trying to smack him. 

The thought made Dante chuckle; it looked like Nero’s temper had rubbed off on her after all.

“You did WHAT?” Nero’s face turned from white to burgundy red in an instant, and Nico elbowed him in the ribs.

“Shhhh! The kids for fucks’ sake!” 

Nero looked like he was about to explode.

"Relax, kid. I only had two sip—"

Dante yawned.

The room fell silent.

“Uh-oh,” Nico muttered. 

A wave of drowsiness washed over Dante, leaving his limbs to feel heavy. He couldn’t feel anything wrong but for the tiredness that was settling over him.

He wasn’t in pain. He couldn’t feel any form of poison or aggression.

Just the longing to lie down, get comfortable and… have a nice nap.

“Hey, you okay?” Nero hissed, his hands grabbing onto his arm like the kid was afraid he would keel over.

“Yeah… I’m just… sleepy?” Dante mused, surprised at his body’s reaction.

“Sleepy.” Nero deadpanned, like this was kind of an impossible feat.

“Yeah.” Dante shrugged. 

Another yawn escaped him, leaving his eyes to water.

“How much did you drink?” Nero asked, his eyes going to the cup on the kitchen table. “Just two sips? For real?”

“Yup,” Dante confirmed, his hand coming to rub at his eyes. 

They felt dry and gritty, like he hadn't slept in days. 

“If such a small amount already makes you want to sleep, then…” Kyrie mumbled, her hand rubbing over her chest as if her heart was aching.

“Yeah, if Verg’ drank a whole cup then that stuff would have knocked him out,” Dante confirmed, forcing himself to focus.

His thoughts felt a bit confused, but nothing that one or two cups of coffee couldn’t clear.

Still… the effect was as impressive as it was unexpected.

“Shit, what do we do then? How can we know he’s going to wake up?” Nero asked, the kid’s face betraying his worry.

Dante understood his nephew’s concern, and he could see the same emotion on Kyrie's and even the little gunsmith’s faces.

“Well… I can’t feel anything special besides the need for a nap, so I guess we’ll have to wait for your old man to just... sleep it off.”

“What? Just like that?” Nero exclaimed in disbelief.

He looked like he was about to argue, but honestly there wasn’t much they could do anyway. If this was related to the tea, Vergil’s body should neutralize the effects eventually.

How long that would take was anyone's guess, but there wasn't much else they could do. 

“Yeah, kid. You all look like you could use some sleep, kiddos. Let’s all call it a day.” Dante suggested as he just walked past Nero and Nico and crossed the corridor.

He yawned for the third time as he entered the living room, making his way to the couch. 

He reached for his brother’s legs and lifted them off the couch until he had enough room to slip underneath them.

Dante sank into the soft cushions and made himself comfortable, letting his brother’s legs rest over his lap.

“Seriously?” Nero hissed from the doorway, but Dante barely noticed.

Damn.

This couch might have been the most comfortable thing Dante had ever sat on.

Warm.

Soft.

Perfect.

He could feel the tension bleeding out of his muscles one knot at a time, his thoughts growing slower and fuzzier with every passing second.

Somewhere near the doorway, Nero was still saying something.

The kids were staring at him.

Kyrie looked horrified.

Dante vaguely considered reassuring them.

But everything went dark.

Vergil felt the warm rays of the sun brush against his face. 

He frowned and blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the surprising brightness.

The first thing he noticed was the ceiling above his head, the wooden beams and white tapestry feeling strangely familiar and yet foreign at the same time.

He knew those beams.

And yet they weren't the ones above his bed at the Devil May Cry.

A quiet confusion stirred inside him. This was… Nero’s home?

But why was he here? And most importantly, why was he… lying inside his son’s living room?

Vergil felt the soft surface underneath his body and felt only more confused. Had he been sleeping on the couch?

This felt absurd. 

Sleep wasn’t Vergil’s forte in the best of circumstances.

Even when his twin was standing watch over the shop and guaranteeing him safety from any foe while he needed to rest, sleep was an issue.

Just falling asleep at Nero’s home was impossible.

Did he get injured? But Vergil couldn’t remember any wound, nor any demon.

He had come to see Nero and then… yes, Kyrie had offered him a refreshment. 

Then… he couldn’t remember anything. 

Strange.

Vergil pushed himself up onto one elbow.

Something shifted.

Weight.

Warmth.

He looked down and froze.

Dante was sprawled across the couch beneath him, sound asleep with Vergil's legs resting over his lap.

For several seconds, Vergil could only stare.

What sorcery was this?

Then another soft sound grabbed his attention, a barely audible snore.

Vergil's gaze followed the sound instantly.

His consternation only deepened.

Nero and Kyrie were asleep on the carpet in front of the couch, huddled together beneath a blanket.

Perhaps he hadn’t left Morpheus’ realm yet.

That was the only explanation that came to his mind.

But whereas his dreams were usually filled with old ghosts and buried horrors, the quiet softness of this moment felt unbearably precious.

And Vergil found himself strangely reluctant to disturb it.

He waited, holding his breath and expecting the scenery to be tainted by blood, screams, and horrors.

But nothing happened. The warmth stayed, and something deep inside him twisted when he realized that this was real. 

Even though he couldn’t comprehend what had led to this.

Careful not to make a sound, Vergil shifted on the couch. 

As he lifted his legs from his brother's lap, Dante's hands tightened around his boots.

Vergil paused and looked down.

His twin was still asleep.

Clinging to him unconsciously.

A faint crease had appeared between Dante's brows.

Vergil sent a small pulse of demonic energy toward him, a quiet nudge rather than a true wake-up call.

Dante sighed softly in response, and his grip loosened immediately, the tension fading from his features.

Only then did Vergil finish standing.

Curiously, he felt rested.

More rested than he could remember feeling in years.

His head felt clear, his heart felt light.

There was no ache in his shoulders, no lingering exhaustion pressing against the back of his skull. 

For perhaps the first time since he had been a boy, he felt at ease. At peace.

Vergil stood for a moment in the living room, simply watching the three people who were still asleep. 

A faint feeling of unease still pulsed at the back of his mind.

Dante hadn’t even stirred despite the movement in the room.

Nero and Kyrie shouldn’t have been lying on the floor of their own house. And as he watched their features closely, he could spot faint traces of lingering exhaustion.

Redness on the eyelids, dark circles underneath, an unhealthy paleness clinging to their skin.

Something had happened.

Something significant enough to leave all three of them exhausted.

And yet Vergil couldn't remember a single moment of it.

Still, as long as they were all here and healthy, whatever had caused this situation must have been taken care of...

Soft footsteps echoed upstairs. 

One child seemed awake already, but their parents were still in dire need of sleep.

For a moment Vergil hesitated on what he should do, but when a soft sniffing sound reached his ears he simply teleported upstairs. 

Kyle’s room was empty, the door open and the bed undone.

Vergil followed the corridor in utmost silence, letting the soft sound guide him. 

He passed in front of little Carlo’s room and finally reached the eldest child's.

Carefully, Vergil pushed the door open a sliver, looking at the darkened room.

Two silhouettes were lying in the bed, one of them clutching what he knew was a soft toy shaped like a bird.

That particular silhouette was awake, sniffing rather pitifully in the dark, bundled against the slightly larger shape of his older brother.

Something was ailing Kyle. And his pain felt like sandpaper on Vergil’s senses.

He let his knuckles rasp against the wood softly, signaling his presence without making too much noise.

The smallest form gasped and froze before two huge red eyes peeked from the pillow. 

The boy’s eyes grew wider, staring at him in unveiled surprise.

For a moment Vergil wondered if he shouldn’t have interfered and gone for Kyrie and Nero instead.

As he kept standing in the doorway, the boy’s eyes filled with tears that started to spill over his cheeks, and his lips wobbled in a childish mask of terrible distress.

Unease coursed through him. Perhaps this had been a mistake, and he should retreat.

But then two small arms emerged from beneath the blankets and reached for him desperately.

A wet hiccup escaped Kyle.

The silent plea was impossible to misunderstand.

Vergil stared at him, utterly unsure of what to do.

But another sob rattled the child.

And in the end, Vergil chose to follow the child's instructions.

He crossed the room and knelt beside the bed, reaching out stiffly in response to Kyle’s demand, but the small boy ignored Vergil’s arms and launched himself at him instead.

Two small arms wrapped around his neck and held on surprisingly tight. 

Kyle broke down, his cries muffled as his head was buried in Vergil’s neck but loud enough to wake up the other child next to them.

Vergil looked past Kyle's shoulder toward Julio, waiting to see how the older boy would react. 

Julio stared just like his young brother did, before scrambling out of bed and joining Kyle.

“You’re awake!” Julio whispered in a mixture of relief and tears.

Awake. Why… yes.

The issue was that Vergil couldn’t recall what had led to him falling asleep in the first place.  

“Kyrie said you were dead, but I told her she was all wrong.” Kyle sobbed, and his words left Vergil to stare at both children.

Dead?

Was this the reason why Dante was even here? 

And why Nero and Kyrie were sleeping next to the couch instead of their bed? 

They… thought I… died? 

The idea felt utterly absurd.

And yet everyone in the house seemed to have believed it.

Vergil needed to know what had happened. He could recall sitting down on the couch with Kyrie and catching a plate that had tumbled from the table, but then… 

“Children.” He called out softly, keeping his voice low and his arms around the small frames.

Two pairs of wet eyes looked up at him.

“Can you explain what happened?” 

Julio was the first to react, his brow furrowing. 

“You fell asleep. We were talking while Kyrie went to the kitchen, and then you stopped moving, and your eyes closed.” 

“Kyrie tried to wake you, but you wouldn't wake up,” Kyle whispered. “Then Nero tried too, but nothing worked.” 

Disbelief made his mind go blank for a moment.

Fools.

Every last one of them.

The children had cried themselves to sleep.

Nero and Kyrie had spent the night at his side.

And Dante had crossed half the world to get here.

All because they had believed he was gone?

Vergil was speechless.

His chest felt strangely too tight, an unexpected and unknown warmth unfurling behind his ribs.

“Are you okay?” Kyle’s small voice asked, the boy still plastered against him like he might vanish should he let go.

“Yes,” Vergil muttered.

“Yes, I am.” 

His understanding of several things had just been turned entirely on its head.

Yet, despite the confusion, he truly was 'okay'.

He tightened his hold around the children, more to steady himself while he tried to make sense of this mysterious phenomenon than to comfort them.

But they didn't complain.

If anything, they immediately pressed closer.

The embrace lasted for a short while before a deep growling sound escaped one of the children’s stomachs.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, loosening his hold on them.

Both nodded eagerly, and a hopeful gleam sparked into Kyle’s eyes.

“Can we have pancakes?”

Vergil stared at the boy.

Pancakes.

Of all the challenges he had expected to face this morning, this had not been one of them.

“It would require Kyrie’s assistance, but she is still asleep.” Vergil refused as he slowly straightened to his full height and left the room with both children in tow.

They made their way to the kitchen in silence, leaving the rest of the house to rest.

As he entered the room, Vergil stopped dead in his tracks while the children went to their seats around the table.

The scent lingering in the room made him stop.

Chamomile.

Lavender.

And blood.

Vergil’s eyes scanned the room, searching for the origin of those smells. He noticed two cups on the table, one of them he recognized as his.

He reached for it and easily identified the smell emanating from the tea.

Thick and sweet. 

Almost intoxicating.

Realisation dawned on him. He had drunk one cup of this yesterday. 

But he had failed to notice the faint smell of blood he could pick up on now. 

Suspicion followed, and Vergil grabbed the purple box on the table.

Redgrave Chamomile tea. 

Could the plant… feed off the remnants of the Qliphoth? Could that have influenced his body to the point of knocking him out? 

Vergil emptied the cups in the sink, making sure the children would not be tempted to try this out. 

Then, he helped Julio grab the cereals and bowls on the shelf, before pressing the button of the coffee machine in preparation for the awakening of the rest of the household.

The warm, spicy smell of coffee reached Kyrie, familiar and comforting.

She woke up to it, looking around and finding herself huddled against her lover on the living room’s floor.

Nero was still soundly asleep, and as she turned around, she found Dante snoring softly on the couch.

But no Vergil.

She blinked, her brain lagging a second behind before relief and undiluted joy exploded inside her chest.

Kyrie stood up, heart fluttering, and quickly took the direction of the kitchen.

Soft sounds of cutlery and porcelain soon accompanied the smell of coffee.

She pushed the door open, finding Julio and Kyle seated around the table, plunging their spoons into their cereal bowls.

The boys looked up at her and their faces lit up, big smiles and grins curving their lips.

Kyrie smiled back at them, but her attention was elsewhere. Her eyes swept over the rest of the kitchen, searching for someone else.

And when she finally found who she had been looking for, her breath caught softly under the wave of relief. 

Vergil was standing near the sink, watching her in silence.

His gaze was sharp and alert, his back straight, his posture tightly controlled.

And Kyrie almost came undone all over again.

Her eyes felt hot and the tip of her nose stung.

She sniffed and just made her way to the other side of the kitchen, pulling her father-in-law into a hug.

She squeezed him tight, ignoring the little frantic voice at the back of her mind whispering that Vergil didn't like those kinds of close marks of affection. That he would usually never allow anyone to do that.

Not that she cared about that at this very moment. She had just been so scared.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea the tea might have secondary effects on you.” She mumbled wetly, hoping he wouldn’t be mad at her for what happened.

“I would have never bought it if I had known!” 

A large hand came to rest over her back, clumsily trying to comfort her, and Kyrie felt as if her heart was melting.

“There is no need for an apology.” 

The voice was soft, free of any form of reproach. Like the fact that she had accidentally poisoned him was barely worth noticing. As if it didn’t matter.

That was unacceptable. 

“I could have killed you!” She sniffed, trying to hide the extent of her emotions by just holding him closer.

 “I-I really thought… y-you…” 

“It seems the box’s promise of “Promoting peaceful sleep.” was not to be taken lightly.”  

The dry comment tore a small laugh out of her.

Yes, yes indeed.

She pulled back and wiped her cheeks on the back of her hand.

“I’m such a mess, I’m sorry.”

“I apologize for scaring you.”

She managed a wobbly smile at him before finally pulling herself together. 

“Did you have breakfast?” She asked him, going to a cupboard and taking five cups out.

“No,” Vergil answered, and he seemed to hesitate for a moment. 

“The children have requested pancakes. But that is out of my range of skills.” 

“Yes!!” came the small, excited shouts from the table, confirming his words.

“Pancakes? Yeah, I think we all deserve something nice after last night.” She smiled at them before starting to fetch the ingredients.

“I was hoping you could show me how to make them.”

Kyrie paused and looked over her shoulder, a bag of flour still clutched in her hand.

For a moment, she simply stared.

The request sent a flutter through her chest.

Vergil wanted to learn.

He wanted to make breakfast with them.

A smile spread across her face before she could stop it.

"Of course."

Nero woke to the sound of the household coming back to life around him. 

There was noise in the kitchen, and he could hear the soft blabbering of Carlo upstairs. 

He blinked and rubbed at his face, feeling tired and stiff from sleeping on the floor, even though they had barely caught a few hours of rest at most.

He looked all around.

Kyrie wasn’t there.

The same went for Vergil.

Hope and relief made him close his eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath. 

Given the enthusiastic sounds escaping the kitchen, his father must be awake and well, or Kyrie would have been devastated instead of preparing breakfast.

If his nose wasn't deceiving him, someone was making coffee and pancakes.

Around here, that usually meant something worth celebrating.

Nero stood up and stretched with a yawn. He would first retrieve Carlo before the baby started to get upset at being left out.

But first…

There was still one other person in the room.

Dante hadn't moved an inch.

Sprawled across the couch exactly where he had collapsed, he was still sleeping soundly despite the noise drifting through the house.

Nero stared at him for a moment, a thread of worry coursing through his veins.

"Dante?"

He reached out and gave his uncle's shoulder a firm shake.

The hunter flinched weakly, pale blue eyes blinking open in deep confusion. Still half-asleep.

“Kid?” A hoarse murmur left his lips.

“Good morning.” Nero greeted him, squeezing his shoulder. 

What a relief to see that he was reacting, even if he looked about to go back to sleep any second now.

“So? How does it feel to oversleep for once?” 

A huff escaped his uncle as he shook his head, trying to chase the remaining drowsiness.

“Damn, I haven’t slept like this in… ever!” Dante yawned, looking bedraggled and not quite awake yet.

“Seems like we found a sleeping potion for demons. That can be useful… Anyway, the antidote is waiting in the kitchen.” Nero chuckled, feeling in a genuine good mood.

It seemed this entire nightmare was over and for once, there had been no victim, no blood. 

Just a misadventure they could all laugh about later.

“Coffee, here I come!” The red twin mused as he shifted and rose clumsily from the couch.

Nero huffed as he watched him walk toward the kitchen, his steps a bit less assured than they should be. That tea was still clinging to his system, it seemed.

A quick detour upstairs later, Nero had Carlo balanced on one hip as he followed the smell of breakfast into the kitchen. 

The appetizing smell of pancakes filled the air as Nero settled Carlo into his chair and finally looked around the table.

A towering stack of pancakes sat in the middle, already under attack from several eager hands.

Kyle and Julio were talking over each other, spreading jam or chocolate over theirs.

Dante was halfway through his second mug of coffee.

And Vergil—

Vergil was sitting among them.

Alive and awake.

Quietly listening to Kyrie while she was pointing out things on the pages of one of her cookbooks.

For a moment, Nero simply stood there.

The knot that had been lodged inside his chest since yesterday finally loosened.

No blood. No pain.

Just breakfast.

And somehow, that felt nothing short of miraculous.

He shook his head as he took a seat next to Dante, grabbing himself a few pancakes before everything vanished.

“God, this thing hits harder than I thought.” Dante yawned again, aiming for a third cup of coffee.

“Yeah, better get rid of that tea and avoid it entirely.” Kyrie sighed, a hand coming to rub at her chest, an unconscious sign of how much this had stressed her out. 

“No.”

The quiet but firm refusal left no room for argument, and every head at the table turned toward Vergil.

“How is that a ‘no’?” Nero demanded. “Don't tell me you want to drink that stuff again.”

“Kid's right, Verg’,” Dante muttered around a yawn. “That tea's dangerous.”

“A cup of chamomile tea will not harm me,” Vergil replied evenly. “Regardless of its unusual properties.”

Nero stared at him.

“That's not the point!”

For a brief moment, Vergil seemed to consider his words.

Then he looked down at the coffee in Dante's hands before meeting Nero's gaze again.

“I slept.”

Silence fell over the table.

The words were simple, yet somehow heavier than anything else he could have said.

Vergil looked away first.

Dante's shoulders sagged immediately.

“Shit, yeah...” he murmured quietly. “I get it.”

Both twins exchanged a look that betrayed more than Nero could ever hope to understand.

Old wounds. 

Memories that refused to stay buried.

A lifetime of things neither of them ever talked about.

Nero felt suddenly out of his depth.

He ran a hand through his hair, torn between annoyance and concern.

“You'd better dilute that thing ten times over,” he grumbled.

Vergil's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

“I shall exercise caution.”

“You officially lost the right to complain about my naps,” Dante informed the table before taking another sip of coffee.

“Dante.”

“Nope.”

“Foolishness.”

Nero bit down on his pancake as the twins started bickering again on the other side of the table.

He heard Kyrie and the children’s soft giggles at the light banter.

Somehow breakfast tasted even sweeter this morning. 

And Nero found himself hoping that perhaps, for once, mornings like this might become a habit.