PWR GRL. | Art, writing, and rambling

At first, A had captured V into a familiar’s contract; but when he had had his chance to break it, he chose not to do it. 

Her coven (well, her relatives that even bothered with acknowledging her half-breed existence) had told her that it couldn’t be done—that there was no contract stronger than pure subjugation. They had to keep their demon (or, in her case, half-demon) familiars tightly under their thumbs. 

But, interestingly enough, she had found that her and V’s bond of trust far eclipsed the familiar bonds of other witches. Even full-blooded ones of ancient pedigree.

Because of that, it was sometimes hard to tell which feelings were hers and which feelings were his. They were both worried, that was clear.

Indeed, they were both worried about getting back to their own time; they were both worried about what could happen if they meddled too much with this timeline. 

But, mostly, Vergil was worried about his brother Credo. 

Vergil feared that Moros had radicalized him.

Auntie had been one of the founding members of the Order—derived from the Order of the Sword—an organization that observed most of the Order of the Sword’s original principles. But this Order didn’t worship Sparda as a god; they upheld his ideals and the ideals of his sons. They created an international network of benevolent demons and magical creatures of all kinds to combat the resurrection of evil at every turn. 

It had been Auntie herself, with magic not as naturally powerful but far more refined than Aurelia’s, that had defeated Aurelia to release Vergil. Though she didn’t see it herself, and still to this day thought he had been so stupid to trust her, Vergil attached himself to the spark of goodness in Aurelia and refused to let go of it…even if it meant his freedom. She would be forever grateful to him for it.

And Moros? Well, he hadn’t always been Moros. He had been a good man once, a man named Elpis. Elpis had been like a father figure to Vergil and Credo. Credo adored him.

Like most of them, Moros was a half-breed—half-demon, to be exact. He had been one of the longest living members of the Order and renowned for doing his job with pride and excellence. 

But, like all of them, it wore on him after a while. It was endless, thankless, and full of suffering.

And then Elpis found out the truth of his ancestry. He was the great-grandson of the Demon Emperor Mundus. 

To be the progeny of someone who had so consistently plagued humanity finally broke Elpis. He took on the persona of Moros and swore his revenge on all supernatural beings, himself included, and vowed to destroy every last demon and demonic relic that resided in the human world.

And that included the Order.

Most of those who had served under Elpis sided with him immediately, and it didn’t take long for other members of the Order to defect. Insurrection and terrorism, quite suddenly, became the norm. Friends were fighting friends, and now…brother was fighting brother.

And how Moros had found the power to throw them back in time like that…it left her deeply uneasy. Had he found some way to resurrect the Qliphoth tree, though the original Dante and Vergil had destroyed it all those years ago? Had he found a way to tap into the pure unbridled power of a Nexus? They were struggling to figure out how to get back, yet he threw them back in nothing but a fit of anger.

“A?”

V pulled her back into the present with a gentle touch of his hand to hers. He ran a thumb soothingly over her knuckles. 

“Sorry, thinkin’.”

“I’m worried too.”

She gave his hand a squeeze and released it. “The stakes are higher for you.”

They fought like cats and dogs, and he pissed her off in a way that no other living being on earth could, but she would truly give anything to keep the look he was wearing off his face.

“The stakes are pretty high for all of us.”

A’s lip curled back. “Alex and Dante need to hurry the hell back.”

“…It’s still super weird, you know…calling her Alex.”

“I don’t disagree.”

When they returned to the office, they found Dante napping at his desk.

Dante woke up to dainty little A hovering over him with serious look that didn’t match her young face. 

“Where’s Alex?”

“Still in Rome.”

A scoffed and swore. 

“Look, little lady, slow your roll. She sent this back with me.” 

He reached into his duffle bag (still by his desk, as he immediately dropped dead asleep in his chair when he got back to the shop, after Lady picked him up and promptly stripped him of all his money) and tossed the package to A.

The magic seal on it disintegrated when it came into her possession, and A immediately marched downstairs to assemble all the new parts of their plan.

V gave Dante a two-fingered salute. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” was Dante’s withering reply.

Once V descended the stairs, he found A already taping notes to the whiteboard Alex had placed in the corner of her room. She was already scribbling notes of her own, but he had to say...he definitely didn’t like the look on her face.

“What is it?”

“...I don’t like this plan already.”

“Okay...what’s wrong with the plan?”

“Well, for starters...we’ll be stuck here ‘til Halloween.”

“Shit.”

“And...well. It could kill me or Alex...or both. My death is one thing, but hers? Well, maybe we wouldn’t have the whole Moros problem, but—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“There was a time I’d would’ve wished for it, but not now,” A said very softly.

“At any rate,” she began again more strongly, “it could have some serious consequences.”

“Is there nothing else we can do?”

“If there is somethin’, it’d take me a while to riddle it out. Theoretically, Alex’s plan is pretty solid. She’s accounted for things I haven’t even thought of. It’s just...there’s a lot that could go wrong.”

“Maybe...maybe the fact that we’re still alive is proof enough that this works.”

“I can only hope so.”

Vergil had been working his way through his old haunts; he had explored a little more of the remains of Fortuna after he had departed from Nero’s home, then traveled back to the shell of Temen-Ni-Gru. He found it...razed and ransacked. 

It wasn’t mere wanton destruction; the objects used to control parts of the tower had been surgically removed, key bridges and mechanisms had been utterly destroyed. The Leviathan Dante had killed...its bones had been picked practically clean. This hadn’t been done by normal demons—he could tell by the fine markings left on the bones. 

This reeked of the jinn.

As he had been traveling, he had been gathering intel about Dante and the hunters and persons of interest he had surrounded himself with. Their names seemed to inspire equal parts awe and anger. Just as he had expected, Dante’s name in particular seemed to be the most polarizing.

“But what about the boy?” Vergil asked one bartender when he stopped for a refreshing libation. “The boy that Dante’s taken under his watchcare?”

“What was that kid’s name? Ah...Nero? From that funny town, Fortuna. Got a little infamous after the Savior Incident. He’s curt and a little mouthy, but he’s good for getting the job done. Doesn’t blow shit to Kingdom Come like quite Dante, that’s for sure.”

Vergil smirked. “I’m assuming you’ve had a run-in with...Dante?”

“Not me personally, but word gets around quick. Most of it’s pretty unflattering.”

“I imagine so.” He slipped a bill under his empty glass. 

He then borrowed a boat to Mallet Island, and the closer he got the island, the more physically tense he felt. Most of the island had been destroyed when Dante and Trish escaped, but he could still feel how thin the veil felt here. This place felt so impossibly familiar that it made his skin crawl and his hair stand on end. He felt nothing but shame and anger as his eyes scanned the rocky shores.

Not only had he been defeated by Mundus and subjugated under his control, he had had his entire identity stripped from him. He remembered very little from his defeat at Mundus’s hands until his defeat at Dante’s hands once again—just snippets, impressions, nightmares. Flurries of wings, golden-eyed shadows, and miasma screaming itself into being.

His second defeat to Dante had destroyed most of his physical body as Nelo Angelo and sent the tattered remains of his soul hurtling back into the pits of Hell. It took him years to reform enough of himself to claw his way out of Hell, and all the while, he planned his revenge.

Then he found the boy rumored to have his weapon, tore the required limb from the elbow down, and took no heed of the face that looked so like his own.

But, as he studied the blurred-together memories of V and Urizen, he found that his Demon had no name for Himself. The Demon recognized Dante, that much he could remember, but the Demon hadn’t...recognized himself as anything. 

Only V called him Urizen; the Demon was...nothing. No one.

Only when he fully reformed as Vergil did he come to the stinging realization that he wasn’t himself without his human weaknesses. Without them, he wouldn’t strive to be better, to be more powerful, to be perfect. 

Without the inferiority and the pain, without the complexity and nuance, the Demon had one simple-minded goal: to consume the Qliphoth fruit and obtain perfect power. Then the Demon, in his unfathomable apathy, would have perched on his throne and watched it all crumble into dust—

Vergil’s brooding immediately halted when his skin erupted into goosebumps. Fundamentally, this whole island felt wrong—a strange clashing of time and space. But, here, the feeling was almost oppressive; it was almost as if the very fabric of reality itself was splintering to pieces.

He could see the ghosts of soldiers past and apparitions of a future yet to come, and he realized that V and A’s entrance into their world had created hairline cracks in their reality.

To Dante's delight, demons finally started appearing with the traps, and he would gleefully slaughter them. Unfortunately for the hunters, that signaled the increasing difficulty of the maze.

The magic traps were only the first phase, and the demons were the second. The third? Disabling the traps and killing the demons set off a chain reaction of shifting rooms and crumbling floors.

…Which was where they were at now.

They were trapped in an alcove just big enough for the two of them; when the floor collapsed, he reacted out of instinct and had gripped Alex to him.

Dante felt every curve of her—and the accelerating thrum of her heart—against him, and words totally failed him. He struggled to keep his body from reacting without him. The look on her face was both priceless and dangerous.

"Dante, let me go."

He released her as quickly as he had grabbed her…those words dripped with venom. She eased over beside him and carefully turned, though they were still touching shoulders.

Alex triggered.

"We can both fly, dumbass."

Oh. Right.

He followed her example…though that wasn't technically right. He could fly…she did this, like, weird, float-y hover thing. Sorta like a Sin Scissors. Less creepy, more elegant. She looked kinda like a mirage. But more substantial.

…Yeah, he kinda sucked at explaining things.

It was relatively easy going now that Alex had re-established that he could fly, and Alex's map finally came in handy.

They were getting close to the hive now—the demons came in delightfully massive onslaughts, and he razed his way through them with great pleasure. Alex attacked with little flair and was quite a boring fighter, in his opinion, but her one-hit kill ratio was unparalleled even by Vergil. He knew it…she would be the one to kill the queen.

And once they found the heart of the nest, she did.

The queen fell to screaming pieces as Alex sliced her to ribbons. An unearthly chorus of death throes overwhelmed their senses as all the drones died at once. Their job was done.

That paycheck was gonna be fat.

…Hopefully.

Once she had teleported them out of the catacombs, Alex released his hand like he had leprosy. Oh, he had definitely touched a nerve. He didn't know whether to be proud or ashamed of himself that he could still throw her off so easily.

Wait, why was he giving her a free pass? She did him the same way!

She marched ahead of him, and he followed behind her wordlessly. If he opened his mouth now, they were well on their way to an argument.

Alex hailed an Uber that took them to the office of their client.

"So…are those collapsing rooms gonna screw us up?"

She summoned up her map. "On it."

"Comin' in clutch, Priestly."

That comment seemed to appease her the slightest bit.

She smoothly explained to the client—with her map and an overlay of the graveyard layout Dante had no idea she had—that the catacombs had been designed with shifting rooms and hallways that lead to dead ends positioned over pits. The demons had probably been latent and placed there as traps, and that nothing of value had been disturbed and all the hexes had been deactivated.

"Ah, Miss Lady said we could trust you! And she was right," the client (a fat old Italian gentleman who was definitely drinking in the tall glass of water that was Alex) announced enthusiastically. He pulled stacks of Euros from a safe behind him and carefully doled out each set of fees into plain envelopes.

Dante could feel himself getting a little breathless…that was the largest stack of cash he had seen in a long time.

Priestly comin' in clutch again.

"Thank you again for all your help, Miss Priestly. We'll call you directly if anything else like this happens again."

"I would appreciate that, Signor Abbiati. We'll be in touch."

Dante practically waltzed with happiness right out of the building. He practically floated on air until—

"So where's my twenty Euro?"

Alex had to shatter it.

"Twenty Euro for what?"

"Feeding you."

"Isn't the pleasure of my company compensation enough?"

"No."

"Damn, Priestly, you're killing me."

"Least I'm not charging interest with that."

He grumbled but agreed, and he begrudgingly handed her a twenty Euro bill. She had to remind him that the harpy was gonna confiscate all his money as soon as he stepped foot into the States.

Dante had been careful not to let their fingers brush when he handed her the money.

He felt it more than saw it that Alex had retreated back into her little shell, and any progress he had made with her had crumbled as quickly as those stupid ass floors that had gotten them into this predicament in the first place.

But, honestly, he wasn't sure what he wanted from her, anyway.

He pushed those thoughts aside as they hailed one last taxi for the evening. It wasn't crazy late, but they were both beat; so they ordered room service, and Alex called first dibs on a shower.

Dante leafed through a random magazine on the desk in their room and waited for their food. The waiter dropped off their goods, and Dante immediately tucked into his pizza. Wasn't as good as home, in his humble opinion, but it sufficed. He scarfed it down in mere minutes.

He and Alex switched places; he showered, and she scarfed down her order.

Once he stepped out of the bathroom, Dante found Alex gathering together all the notes she had made on the plane ride over; she placed a magic seal on it and handed it to him.

"I need you to give this to A. She'll know what to do with it."

"You can't give it to her yourself?"

"I'm sticking around here a few extra days."

"Well," Dante replied with a touch of drama. "Could've invited me to stay."

"You'd hate it. Dinner with my friend Cas and some new art exhibits."

"…Yeah, that doesn't sound like my idea of fun."

"Will you be able to make it to the airport by yourself?"

"Remember, I'm a strong, independent man."

"Okay, Mr. Independent. I'll let you set your own alarm."

It was late, so dinner hours were in full swing. Alex obviously knew where she was going, so he just kept abreast with her. It really was just around the corner, and it looked like something you'd see in a movie or on a postcard.

There was only room for them at the bar, and Alex went ahead and ordered. She ordered herself a nice tall glass of wine…while Dante only got iced water.

"Really, Priestly, ice water? Couldn't do me a solid and order me a beer?"

"You bring any Euros with you?"

"…No."

"They don't split tabs here like they do in the States. Guess who's gonna be footing the bill?"

Dante smiled sheepishly.

Alex sighed. "You haven't changed much, have you?"

"I just…reached perfection quicker."

She merely shook her head and went back to nursing her glass of wine. "Hm. You'll be paying me back."

"I'm a strong, independent man who can pay his own tab…after we get paid."

"Let's hope you don't destroy anything."

"Look, I've learned restraint."

Alex looked thoroughly unconvinced.

"Okay, so I've learned some restraint."

Her face remained the same. If anything, her eyebrow arched higher.

"Fine. Like two percent more restraint. Happy?"

"That sounds more like it."

About this time, his pizza appeared, and it looked like she ordered herself some type of pasta. Whatever it was, it looked like little shell-shaped pockets and smelled strongly of cheese. Looked pretty good, actually.

"I'll trade you a slice if you'll let me try some."

She looked oh-so-surprised. "You? Trade pizza? Really?"

"My palette is more nuanced these days."

She smirked with amusement and passed him her fork. He got a few big bites of her pasta, and she traded him a slice of pizza.

"Mm, good."

"None of that comes from a can, does it?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

They continued to eat in companionable silence. He got most of the way through his pizza, when he said, "I know I haven't changed much, according to you, but I'd say you've changed."

Alex cocked her head. "How so?"

"I dunno…you seem more…relaxed? Content? Not as high-strung?"

A wane smile at the back-handed compliment. "I've learned to roll more with the punches."

"I think it suits you."

"…Thanks."

"…And, you know, thanks for getting the office out of debt and shit. Appreciate it."

"I know who you are, Dante. It was the right thing to do."

"I know who you are, Dante."

He had to admit, that little buzz of hope that settled between his ribs was a slippery bastard who wouldn't die.

So she didn't totally hate his guts. That was good. It's not like her taking up his offer in the first place, or doing all that work on the shop or for the shop, wasn't a big glaring indicator that she didn't hate him.

If there was one thing he hadn't screwed up in his life, it was the fact that he had surrounded himself with a real group of ride-or-dies. Lady and Trish could be, quite frankly, hateful bitches sometimes; but they were his apocalyptic go-tos. Nero was hot-headed and prone to arguing, but the kid was full of heart. He had hardly clashed with anyone quite like he had clashed with Alex, but he knew he could count on her to get shit done, wherever and whenever.

Dante mulled over these things as the shower water cascaded over his back. And then he stole some of Alex's shampoo…because it smelled nice and left his hair super shiny. He knew that she would know he had used it, but he honestly didn't care 'cause his hair was gonna look great once it dried.

Maybe he could scope out a hot Italian model afterward.

He turned off the water and thought about Lady's comments about this Cas character.

Dante kinda wondered about this guy. He knew what he brought to the table (for better or worse), but he was curious about who else did it for Alex.

He knew he had been a pretty shitty boyfriend to her; he had honestly tried to see how far he could push before he pushed her away. He had never cheated on her or anything like that, but he had definitely tested her patience.

Pushing those dark thoughts away, he thought more pleasantly about the men who had shared smiles with Alex, and had kissed her, and had talked to her about super smart things…and had maybe even scored with her. Lucky ducks.

He towel-dried his hair on his way out of the bathroom, and he found Alex already wrapped up like a burrito in her bedsheets. She was fast asleep—he could tell by her slow, even breathing—and he could barely see the top of her head. It was a strangely nostalgic thing to witness.

Dante thought he probably wouldn't sleep tonight—it was his fault he had slept most of the way on the airplane—but he found that Alex's deep breathing and residual heat were the siren's song he needed to drift back off into Sandman's land…

Alex woke up hot and in pain. There was something pressing into her back. Something pressing her to the edge of the bed.

She turned and then remembered. There Dante was, curled into her side. Hogging the rest of the bed.

If she could only jump rope with Lady's intestines right about now…

She usually liked Lady, but not right now. Not at—she checked her phone—4:30 in the morning, when she could already feel the jet lag throbbing behind her eyelids. Not when having Dante in such close quarters dredged up old memories and emotions.

Alex hissed under her breath because she had planned to get up and shower at five; there was no point in going back to sleep. So she kicked off her covers and grabbed her clothes from the nightstand where she had placed them.

The sudden absence of Alex's warmth startled Dante awake, and he instantly shrunk back to his side of the bed when it hit him what was going on.

"Shit, sorry!"

She merely grunted at him and went to have a long, hot shower.

…He had been using her shampoo.

Alex didn't even have to look at the bottle…she just knew. It wasn't like, y'know, she made it herself with rare and expensive ingredients. Her hair was naturally wild and unruly, and this had been the only formula she had created that seemed to reasonably tame it.

Here he was, back in her life and hogging her shit like before.

She made another irritable noise and concentrated all thought on the water cascading over her scalp and shoulders. She finished up and dried off, threw on her clothes, and finished the rest of her morning rituals.

Dante, albeit already asleep again, had already gotten dressed. He knew how shit with Alex worked—first work, then play. She'd get up way too damn early to finish a job, in his opinion, but he knew better than to argue with her. He'd somehow end up doing what she wanted anyway.

Alex wacked him on the leg to wake him up and slipped on her utility belt, and out the door they went. The streets were pretty quiet this early in the morning, and Alex stopped at a local cafe for the largest black coffee they had and a chocolate-filled pastry. She, of course, paid for Dante to have the same pastry and a white chocolate mocha.

Dante knew it was getting safer by the minute to ask her simple questions…not that he was awake enough, either, to ask anything more than that.

"We getting close?"

She pointed up to the top of the next hill, "There."

It was a graveyard.

"Great," he hissed, "mausoleums."

"One of them has a nest in it—"

"Aw, just a nest?"

"—That's turned into a hive."

Dante's lip curled back. "Why haven't they been able to take it out?"

"The whole graveyard is a maze to keep grave robbers out of it."

He sighed. "And I'm guessing that's why we got picked for this gig?"

"Yup. I've got to figure out how to disable the magic traps…and you've gotta wait around while I do it."

"Damn Lady."

"…At least there will still be things to kill at the end."

"My only consolation."

"Figured you'd make your way back eventually. And your new little stowaways?"

"Downstairs with Alex."

"Hm. How's that going, by the way?"

He shrugged. "Well enough."

"Just not like you hoped."

He finally looked up from his magazine.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She smiled. "Nothing."

With Lady, it was always definitely something.

"But I suppose you want something more than to come by and see little ol' me?"

"Naturally. I've got a job for you and Alex if you want it."

"That's a negative."

"You might actually make some money this time, since Alex will probably keep you from wanton destruction."

"And where's the fun in that?"

Lady shrugged. "She and Morrison have done a great job of getting the office out of debt, but you still owe me money. With seven years' back interest."

He looked as cool as a cucumber, but Lady could see his jaw tensing.

"And it's in Rome, by the way. Alex's a big fan of Italian wine."

"Hm, really."

Lady turned on her heel. "I've already texted Alex, and she's up for it. If you don't want it, I'll just call Cas."

"Cas?"

"Casimiro. He's local to the area. One of Alex's exes, actually. They're still good friends."

Dante finally looked up. She didn't miss the flicker of interest in his eyes.

"Objectively, I've hardly met a more attractive ma—"

"You've made your point. I'll go."

"I've already confirmed the details with Alex. Your flight leaves the day after tomorrow."

Why did he feel like he just got played?

--

He hated being squeezed into airplanes at the best of times. It was worse being squeezed into an airplane…beside a woman he personally still found really attractive…for the next nearly-twelve hours.

Why did he agree to this again?

Oh, yeah, he was a dumbass.

And judging by the notebook and old tomes she suddenly magicked from inside her carry-on, she had planned on continuing to mostly ignore him.

"Why couldn't you just teleport us there again?"

"Really dangerous to do with all the ancient wards and religious relics."

"Stupid dick statues," Dante muttered.

"Yeah," Alex agreed, "All the bones and boners."

He rewarded her statement with a smirk, and he relaxed a bit. Pre-take-off procedures began, and Alex magicked her earbuds and a sleeping mask from within her carry-on. She wordlessly handed them to him.

"Ah, totally forgot about these. You're a babe."

With a wink and a grin, he plugged in her earbuds to the screen on the seat in front of them, turned on a random movie, slipped on the mask, and almost promptly went to sleep. Honestly, she wished she had his ability to pass out virtually anywhere.

But it would keep him quiet and uncomplaining for at least the next eight hours, so she could continue riddling through this time travel issue.

They had figured out pretty quickly that the places V and A had teleported from and to were tied to ley lines. Both Redgrave City and their original location in Doloroso were considered nexuses because they both sat on the convergence of three or more ley lines. It was why hell gates were so easy to open in those locations.

So they had their magical source to draw the energy for their spell from. They knew they could use Yamato to open a portal (with Vergil's permission, of course) and Alex herself would act as a linchpin between the portal and A's magical spell. In a nutshell, Alex hadn't been born like a normal child—she had been created, much like Trish had been, for a very specific purpose. She was created to become a Hell Gate key, and Ashmedai had possessed her to enact this plan.

And Dante had to pretty much kill her to break Ashmedai's control over her, and she in turn was able to slay Ashmedai. The whole experience left her quite literally scarred over most of her right side.

She knew Dante wouldn't like this plan at all, but she really didn't see another way it could be done. So far, this was the safest and most reliable plan.

The next step was figuring out when the veil in Redgrave City was thinnest—that would make the process a little less burdensome. This was what all these books were: astronomical records, observations of strange happenings, and even rumored UFO sightings that dated back since Redgrave's founding in the 1700s; she cross-referenced this information with the Professor's ley line maps and witch's almanacs.

The plane flew through a patch of turbulence, and Dante's head lolled onto her shoulder. They both jolted at the sensation, and they chuckled an apology between them.

Dante momentarily fell back asleep, and she resumed her studies. According to the table she had drawn up for herself, it was beginning to look like All Hallow's Eve was going to be the best time to attempt it. She guessed it would be easier to smuggle a whole group of hunters and their weapons into the city on Halloween night, but the chance for potential civilian casualties was much higher.

Hm…it was September 13th right now. That didn't give them much time to produce the incantation and work out the kinks. With a spell of that complexity, the language used had to be very specific and the intention absolutely clear.

Any small misstep could have disastrous implications; they couldn't rush this process.

She sketched down runes and casting circle configurations and what types of elements needed to be included; she'd get A to help her fill in the gaps when they returned.

Dante tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, babe, could you calm down with the pencil there? I can hear you about to set the paper on fire."

"Sorry, didn't mean to disturb your beauty sleep," she replied with a wry smile. "I think I'm at a good stopping point anyway."

He handed her an earbud. "Free movies."

Alex slipped it into her ear, and he returned to the land of slumber.

He was watching some type of horror movie; how he could fall asleep with all the exaggerated squelching and dramatic screaming was beyond her.

The plot was basic, boring, and full of unnecessary sex and gratuitous murder scenes. She found her own eyes getting heavy. Between working on getting them home and getting her own orders made, she had been working almost around the clock…

She woke up to the hostesses preparing the passengers for landing and found herself propped against Dante…looks like they had slumped onto each other mid-flight.

That nap wasn't the best idea because now she knew that her jet lag was going to be even worse, and they started the job first thing tomorrow morning.

Alex removed herself from the warmth of Dante's person and began to pack away her books into her backpack. They settled into the place she had designated for them in her pocket dimension inside of her bag.

Dante bounced awake with an unattractive snort and peeled off the eye mask; she thanked every deity she could think of that he didn't notice she had fallen asleep on him, or she'd never hear the end of it.

"Are we there yet?"

"Close."

He grunted and shoved the mask and earbuds into his duffle bag.

She peered out the nearest window and admired what she could see of Rome sprawled out below them. About ten years back, she'd spent the better part of two years here and had truly fallen in love with the city, and she had come back to see it often.

The city spiraled ever closer, and they finally descended onto the tarmac. In a few more minutes, they were headed off the plane and out toward the city.

Alex hailed a taxi and gave the hotel address to the driver in relatively fluent Italian. At least that's what it sounded like to Dante; Alex always had been a damn smarty-pants.

It wasn't lost on him how serene she seemed whilst she looked out the window.

"You come here often?"

"Yeah, at least once every couple of years."

"Wish I could travel like that."

"Get out of your debt with Lady."

"I'll go to my grave owing that woman money."

"Be a little more careful, then."

"And why would I ever want to do that?"

"To get out of your debt with one of the harpies."

"And the vicious cycle continues."

She hummed her agreement and returned to admiring the scenery. It was a very Alex thing for her to like all this—full of that historical charm and all that.

They arrived at their hotel shortly, and Alex was able to check them in. When they arrived at their little room, they discovered that the twin beds in the room had been pushed together and made up like a single bed.*

They sighed simultaneously.

They had been played.

...

"But I guess I really should be thanking you. Had I not nearly killed the asshole kid who accused my mother of being a whore, I never would've met Credo or Kyrie."

"Your mother wasn't one."

"Excuse me?"

"Your mother wasn't…a lady of the night."

"You mean a prostitute."

"Yes, no. No, she wasn't a…prostitute. If she birthed you, I assume she wanted you."

"Did you want me?"

"I knew nothing about you."

Nero had another question just on the tip of his tongue, and Vergil knew exactly what it was.

If you had known, would you have wanted me?

Nero didn't want to ask, and Vergil didn't want to answer.

Anger clouded Nero's brow. "Do you know how people around here treat women who have children out of wedlock?"

Vergil looked impossibly grim. "I do."

And that told Vergil all he needed to know about what happened to her after he left.

---

Kyrie couldn't help but notice the near touches, missed looks, and general undercurrent of tension between Dante and Alex. It was an easy sort of uneasiness between them, a song and dance Kyrie understood well.

She could hardly remember a time when she didn't consider Nero the love of her life and had always known Nero had felt the same way…but getting him to openly acknowledge that had obviously taken some extreme measures. Savior-sized measures.

She was beginning to notice that these descendants of Sparda seemed to fear nothing except their own happiness.

Kyrie suspected this had probably been the very thing that had broken up Dante and Alex originally. If she were honest, even after all these years of knowing Nero, she was still helping him unpack baggage. That he nor his powers were inherently evil; that his Devil Bringer wasn't ugly and monstrous and didn't need to be feared.

Dante certainly came with his own baggage—she didn't know much about his, but she did know enough about Alex's. Once you got her to open up, Alex was pretty honest about her trauma…but she was sealed like a tomb when it came to her life before the Professor had adopted her, those early years she had spent at an orphanage in Iran. She spoke little of Ashmedai (Alex called him "her creator") or her time under his control.

Kyrie was broken out of her reverie by Nico who, out of ignorance or lack of concern, once again planted herself between Alex and Dante. She was clearly still star-struck by the Dante, the one who wielded some of her grandmother's finest weapons. In her very Nico-like fashion, she spluttered at Dante and chattered at Alex; Kyrie smiled at the three.

Nero and Vergil had been in the living room for some time now, and Kyrie would be lying if she said she wasn't a little concerned. She had strained to hear the murmuring of their voices, but she didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Nero wasn't shouting yet.

The pair appeared in the doorway a moment later; she could tell just from looking at Nero that he was like a cat with its hair raised along its spine.

"Is dinner ready yet?" he asked. "I'm starving."

Dante could tell by the shadow on Vergil's brow that he was equally unsettled.

"I think it should be," Kyrie replied brightly. "Why don't you get the line started? I'll get the boys in."

Nero did as Kyrie asked. As he ladled soup into his bowl, he could tell Alex had been in control of the seasoning—it was extra savory with plenty of turmeric and thinly-sliced green onion.

After the boys had washed their hands, Nico doled out the utensils and Alex ladled soup into their bowls. Dante followed with a sigh.

"It's not pizza, but it'll have to do."

Alex glared daggers at him for being an ungracious guest and made her bowl. Nico and Vergil rounded the back, and everyone carried their bowls into the living room. What Nero said had been very true—Kyrie always made too much.

There was still enough for seconds, even after serving all those people.

Vergil had to admit the soup was rather delicious, especially considering this was very likely his first true home-cooked meal since…he left Fortuna. It vaguely reminded him of the chicken noodle soup Eva had made for cold winter days.

"Alex, do you have to put green onion in everything?" Kyle complained, and Nero firmly smacked said boy in the back of the head. He yowled.

"That's a thought," she said with a wicked smile, "I might have to try it in brownies."

"Not your brownies," Carlo whispered, and the group shared a hearty laugh.

They fell into discussions about simple things, unimportant things—three or four conversations about nothing meaningful happening at once. Vergil watched and listened as he finished his soup.

There would have been a time not-too-long ago when he wouldn't have even tolerated small talk, much less been a willing observer to it like he was right now. It was actually something of a relief…a semblance of normalcy. It could change so quickly, be destroyed so easily.

Vergil wasn't afraid of normalcy—he wasn't afraid of anything—but he was definitely unused to the idea. Who was he without the bid for power? Who was he when things were…normal?

It was something he'd have to figure out.

As he rose from his seat, all eyes were on him. He raised his bowl. "I'll return this to the kitchen. Thank you for the meal and the hospitality. I must be going now."

Dante merely rolled his eyes; Nero looked irritated and confused. "But you just got here."

Vergil slowly nodded. "Yes…but I'm not keen to outstay my welcome. I'll be in touch."

They were left with nothing but the afterimage of his teleport.

Dante had mentioned Trish and Lady frequently enough, but he had spoken of Alex just once—very briefly—and Vergil had been under the impression that he had much to say on the topic.

Vergil had to admit, she was very striking, and a bit of an outlier from what he expected of Dante's taste in women.

She was not this curvy, busty, simpering bombshell; she was slim and athletic, with strong facial features and tawny skin and piercing black eyes.

Dante smirked unpleasantly at Vergil, and he already itched to punch the look off his face.

"So you've made a great first impression, bro."

Before Vergil could retort with a withering reply, Nero reappeared with a t-shirt and Nico with a peanut butter sandwich from the kitchen.

Nero tossed the shirt to Alex (who promptly pulled it on, even though swallowed her whole), and Nico gave half of her sandwich to Alex as she plopped herself between Alex and Dante.

"Thanks. You didn't have to."

"Aw, 's no biggie. It'd be a bunch of work to eat all that damn peanut butter anyway."

Alex smiled.

"None for me?" Dante asked innocently.

"Naw, I heard you were a Kinder fiend! Can't forgive you for a slight like that."

Nero looked to Alex for an explanation. She mildly glared at Dante in turn. "He's been stealing my Kinder hippos."

"Old man, Alex can't get her kinder-and-coffee fix if you keep that up."

"And you'll be the one dealing with mean-as-hell, mid-afternoon Alex!"

Dante looked at Alex with a cheeky grin. "You do suck to be around when you're uncaffeinated."

Her signature raised eyebrow. "Have you met yourself after you've woken up?"

"It's just the fact that I have low blood pressure in the mornings. Makes me unpleasant."

Nico and Nero shared a chuckle over that.

"So," Nero began as he leaned forward onto his knees. "Who wants to tell me how the hell you got out?"

"Of Hell?"

"No, how you got out of bed this morning, old man."

"No need to be so sarcastic, kid. I've busted outta quite a few joints, so just felt the need to clarify. You want the theatrical cut or just the straight facts?"

"Straight facts."

"Verg', you take this one, then."

Vergil sighed and subconsciously leaned forward on his knees. It didn't go unnoticed by the other hunters, and the sight was so uncanny, Nero quickly leaned back into his chair.

He tried not to read into it too much as he launched into his tale.

"It was approximately one week ago when Dante and I finished off a squadron of demons. As we were preparing to duel once again, we heard the sound of arguing. It was a boy and a girl—clearly not full demons themselves. They informed us they had been battling a half-demon named Moros, and a blast from his attack had displaced them from their time. The girl is part-witch, so they offered that, in exchange for opening up a brief portal between the planes, we would assist them in searching for a way to return to their time."

The longer Vergil talked, the more poor Nero looked confused. Nero was a very concrete thinker and always very good at making flash judgements about his environment…but when it came to abstract concepts like time travel, his brain completely stopped working.

Nico, who did nothing but work in theoretical concepts, seemed to take the news much better. "So you're telling me…we're basically gonna need to make a tunnel?"

"Easier said than done," Alex finally joined in on the conversation. She finally looked back to normal. "I don't even know where we're going to find a magic source that powerful…much less anything else."

Dante sighed. "They're clearly getting the better end of the bargain here."

Vergil replied, "We said we would try, not that we could."

"It's not impossible," Alex countered. "It's just…almost impossible."

Dante broke the mood. "Well, guys, it's official…our dicks are in the peanut butter."

Nero almost looked offended. "Excuse me?"

"We're fucking nuts."

Dante grinned as most of the party shared a collective groan; Nico laughed her ass off.

"Ugh, old man, go home with that pun shit."

"You're just jealous you didn't think of it first."

All ears in the room perked up as the front door opened; a torrent of young voices and running feet preceded a sweet female voice—Kyrie. "Nero, we're home!"

The boys bounded into the living room and, upon sight of three of their favorite people, piled onto Nero, Nico, and Alex. The room instantly turned tense—all eyes were on Vergil.

Vergil wore surprise a lot like Dante did; it didn't appear on his face, but it appeared in his eyes. He stared at the three boys and the beautiful young woman who followed after them. She hesitated at the threshold of the doorway and gripped her load of grocery bags tighter.

"Nero, who are these two guys that look like you?" Julio, the one wrapped around Nero, asked. Nero placed a protective hand on Julio's back.

"These guys are…Dante and Vergil." He pointed at each one respectively.

"They wear red and blue kinda like you do."

"They do."

"Hey, boys," Alex began. "Let's help Kyrie get the groceries put up and dinner started, yeah?"

The boys groaned but did as Alex asked; they had learned the hard way that back talk was not allowed. Alex commanded Nico do the same with a furtive look, and she put herself between Nero's brood and Vergil as they walked into the kitchen.

It's not that she didn't trust him…it's just that she didn't trust him.

As Urizen, he did try to enslave her.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't lost on Kyrie that Alex had tucked her twin blades—Ashmedai, if Kyrie remembered correctly—into a nearby corner in the kitchen. But she looked as collected as ever, if a little peaky, as she helped Kyrie cut up vegetables for a big pot of soup for dinner. Nico stirred the chicken stock on the stove while the boys put away the groceries and washed the dishes in the sink.

"Thanks for the help, boys. Why don't you go outside and play for a little while? I'll call you in for dinner." Kyrie smiled angelically, and the boys ran out the door.

Once they were out of earshot, Kyrie finally asked, "I'm guessing I missed something?"

"A big somethin,'" Nico confirmed. "I'm not quite sure of the details m'self. Ask Alex."

The two young women peered at her in curiosity.

Alex sighed and put the knife down on the cutting board. "When Nero was attacked, I came by the house and rigged this place with as many hexes as I could think of. I tied them to a very specific circumstance—if the person who attacked Nero returned. I completely forgot about them until today, when Vergil tripped them."

Kyrie and Nico were unusually somber.

"He hasn't talked about what happened in Redgrave City very much," Kyrie admitted. "I don't think he quite even knows how to talk about what happened."

"I know that feeling."

"And that's why you still look a little gray? Because of the traps triggering?"

"Yeah. It drew all that magic from me at once."

"And…can I ask why you're wearing one of Nero's shirts?"

Alex smiled weakly in embarrassment. "I had just gotten out of the shower when the traps were triggered…I hadn't pulled on all my clothes like I thought."

Nico snickered. "Surprised Dante didn't stare a hole through your ass."

Alex scowled. "Not for lack of trying."

Kyrie smiled at that. "How's that going, by the way? Being…roommates, basically."

"As well as it can go, I guess. Things in my life have been weirder."

Kyrie and Nico hummed their agreement.

"So, like, what are these time travelers like? The ones Vergil mentioned busted them outta Hell?"

"They call themselves V and A. Pretty sure those are aliases. I don't think they're any older than eighteen. V is part-demon, and A is part-witch. I don't know much more than that."

Dante entered the kitchen, plopped down at the table, and propped his feet up on the closest chair. "I got kicked outta the living room. Father and son wanna have a little heart-to-heart."

But he'd seen what happiness had done to his father and then to his mother. Happiness could be stolen; his will, his power? They could not.

But it turned out those things he had thought so very fundamental to himself could—and had—been taken away from him too.

How did Dante keep doing it? Keep going when everything was a gamble of fate? He wouldn't stop getting back up, and maybe that was the secret.

Not that he would ever tell Dante that.

Vengeance and resentment had hardened his heart for so long, but to be awake to himself again was heady and intense. Vergil truly wanted to make amends, to Nero and to Dante, but didn't even know how or where to start.

Vergil wondered if Nero would want to have anything to do with him at all.

That very question had shut Dante up for a good five minutes. Had he not been, well, waiting for the answer, he would've been thankful for silence.

Dante finally replied that Nero was a good kid—albeit bull-headed and feisty. Nero would resist Vergil, and vehemently, for a while…but could eventually be brought 'round. If Vergil wanted it, that is.

"I mean, he did stop me from killing you."

"You mean he stopped me from killing you."

"He stopped us from killing each other, how 'bout that?"

And so here he was, back again for answers, except this time for the opposite reason. Instead of trying to find answers about his father, he was trying to find answers about his…son.

Vergil followed his suspicions to one of Fortuna's oldest graveyards; he remembered her family's name and browsed for her grave marker among the headstones.

He wasn't surprised when he found it, but he was surprised at the torrent of emotions that cascaded over him. Here she was, the woman he may have been in love with, just a withered husk six feet underground. The one emotion he could identify—guilt—threatened to consume him as he realized just how soon she had passed after he left. No more than a year. She must have died soon after Nero was born.

From illness, from heartbreak? Regardless, it was another person he had failed to protect. All to chase after folly.

Vergil simply placed a lily on her grave. "I can only promise I'll do better now."

And he turned to once again find Nero's home. This time, not as a thief. This time…

This time, he would actually give something in turn.

But, when he got within a hundred yards of the house, his skin began to tingle.

He had triggered some latent magic traps.

Just as Alex finished tying her boot laces, the scars twining down most of her right burned with such an intensity that she saw stars for a moment. When she came to, her scars flared bright purple, and she knew exactly what was wrong.

Like a flash of lightning, she summoned her cuffs and her devil's arm, Ashmedai, donned her utility belt, and teleported upstairs. Dante was fast asleep in his chair, but his devil sword was close at hand.

"Dante!" she said sharply. "We've got trouble."

His eyes snapped open, and as he leaped to his feet and grabbed his sword, she snatched the front of his shirt and teleported them to Fortuna.

"Priestly!" Dante shouted, "What the hell—"

The sight that greeted him was not exactly the sight he expected.

He swore half the block was under one of Alex's protective shields, and Vergil was catching hell from a whole host of magical traps and golems of Alex's own invention.

Alex's dark eyes burned violet as she canceled her hexes and ordered her golems to a halt; the scars on her arms practically morphed, and Dante felt the lead weight of guilt settle into the pit of his stomach.

He had helped cause those scars.

But Alex wasn't done yet—all the while Vergil was dodging the last of the hexes and nasty little homunculi, she was laying one final trap for him. She summoned up four lengths of silken ribbon, Gleipnir. The homunculi bent to her will and maneuvered him into position—and she struck. She snatched his limbs taut, and even Yamato couldn't cut through those bindings.

As the last golem clattered to the ground and the last hex blinked from existence, her cuffs glowed red-hot as they expended magical energy. Despite the fact that she looked so pale as the strength was drained from her all at once, she held Vergil firmly in place.

They stared at each other with an equal venom.

To an untrained eye, Vergil looked as cool under the collar as usual. Dante, however, noticed his slightly uneven breathing, the sweat pouring down his brow, and the fine nicks and cuts that decorated his face and clothes. He smirked at the thought of just how easily Vergil had also fallen prey to Alex's designs, so he couldn't be stupid for falling for her shit, either.

Just as soon as the force field around the house thinned, Nero shattered it with Red Queen.

"Alex, what the hell?!" He ground to a halt, and his eyes got wide at the sight in front of him.

"Why are you here?"

Vergil grimaced from his bonds. "…Looking for you."

Nero, for once, was actually struck speechless.

"What do you want me to do?" Alex's eyes smoldered a lethal amethyst, and her voice morphed demonic. "I can tear him apart if you want."

"Tempting, but no. Let him go."

For a long moment, Alex didn't comply. Dante and Nero were worried she wouldn't.

But, finally, she yielded to Nero's request, and Vergil collapsed with an unceremonious thud. It was nice to see Vergil look so graceless for once.

Nero looked at Alex again and suddenly turned bright red. "Where's your shirt?"

Alex looked down and realized that she was still in just her sports bra. "Shit. I just got out of the shower."

"Oh, I am just now noticing that—"

"Dante?!"

"Ah, kid!"

The pair tried to act tough but ended up embracing each other with a matching set of grins.

Now that the shield had dissipated, Nico ran out of the house. "Nero, what the hell is going o—oh! Dante!"

She tackled him in a big hug, despite the fact they had hardly met, and he awkwardly hugged her back. "Hey, uh, Nico."

"What brings y'all back into these parts? We were literally about to call ya'!"

It was Alex's turn to reply. "I forgot to cancel the traps I laid after Nero ended up in the hospital with an arm gone."

All eyes trained on Vergil. He tried not to look too apologetic, though he was indeed quite sorry about the ordeal.

But now the magic had taken its toll, and it was time for Alex to pay the price—she felt an all-too-familiar warm wetness touch her top lip. The world began to blur and sway.

The tips of Dante's fingers just brushed her shoulder blades, but she gently batted him away. She nodded at him minutely—I'll be okay—and summoned one of her vials.

"Nero, can I sit on your couch for a few minutes?"

His expression turned less stormy as he looked from Vergil to Alex. Her pallor definitely concerned him. "Yeah, of course. Do you want me to get you a shirt while you're at it?"

"If it'll get Dante to stop staring, then yes."

Nero smirked at Dante, who very obviously shifted his gaze away.

Nico, with her signature million-watt grin, linked arms with Alex and led her inside. "Let's get you good an' comfy, hon!"

Dante, his eyes watchfully trained on Alex, followed closely behind them.

Vergil and Nero stood still as statues.

He recognized himself in Nero's baleful gaze.

"Do you want to come inside?"

"Only if you want me to."

But he couldn't decide if it felt better or worse knowing Vergil was walking and breathing in the world of humans again. Vergil did equally bad when left to his own devices, just in a different way. He wondered what horrible scheme Vergil would cook up now, but thought back to his eyes and his face and how they had…well, changed. It wasn't just the fact that he looked younger due to that damn Qliphoth fruit, but something in his very countenance had shifted.

Dante partially wondered if it was the fact that Vergil now knew Nero existed in the world; he smirked at the thought that Vergil had been the one to have a kid out of wedlock. He could see Eva ripping Vergil a new one for having a kid he knew nothing about, apparently.

During their stint in Hell, Vergil had asked about Nero—about his childhood and what he was like. Dante made Vergil work for the few answers he had. He also felt guilty, too, when he realized just who Nero was. Like he should've known he was there and should've taken him in and raised him.

But, like Vergil, Dante hadn't known about him. Who's to say Dante would've even done a good job with him if he had taken him in? Not to mention Nero probably never would've known Kyrie if that had happened. Things work out like they're supposed to, he guessed. The kid turned out pretty well, quite without his help. Probably better for all parties involved.

Dante forced himself to look on the bright side of things—fresh start, right? His brother was alive, his shop was doing great, and he was out of Hell. Again.

And, well, he also technically had Alex back in his life. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Only time would tell.

At this particular moment, it was definitely not a good thing she was back in his life. Dante was a picky eater on the best of days, and whatever she was making in the kitchen did not appeal to his very limited palette.

Alex was brewing up this red stew-type stuff…it smelled really hearty and full of herbs and spices he couldn't identify. He didn't like that one bit.

But it was definitely enough to draw V and A out of their rooms. They looked at each other with a gleam in their eye he couldn't quite identify. Also super suspicious.

So he carefully followed after them into the kitchen to see what they were excited about. They quite eagerly sat down at the bar and watched intently as Alex ladled them out a bowl each.

This excitement wasn't lost on her. "You two can't be that hungry."

V and A shared a look, and A answered. "We just, uh…know someone who makes something similar."

V morosely added, "And it makes us miss home."

Alex could identify herself in how their troubled eyes aged their youthful faces. She couldn't have been much older than they were when she came into powers she didn't understand and couldn't control—when even The Professor, a half-demon himself, couldn't help her with them.

Just to cut the tension of his own admission, V slurped a huge spoonful of his soup—and his look morphed into something akin to utter betrayal.

"This…isn't as good as hers."

A, mid spoonful herself, spluttered with a surprised laugh. "Yeah, well, she has had that recipe practically forever, right?"

Alex's eyebrow rose. "Should I be amused or insulted?"

"Sorry," V apologized. "It's still delicious. Just not as delicious."

A elbowed him, and Alex decided simply to be amused.

Dante attempted to sneak to the fridge for a slice of pizza, but Alex wasn't fooled.

"Dante, why don't you come eat a bowl?"

"Yeah…I'm perfectly fine with pizza, thanks."

"Really? Even if it'll help you look less skinny and sad?"

Dante paused; if there was anything Dante was a little vain about, it was the fact that he was something of a sloppy, leather-clad Adonis.

"That shirtless display downstairs was a little…disappointing."

The nail in his coffin.

Dante's wild-eyed look would've been enough to take a lesser person aback; Alex, however, smirked maliciously.

He sat down, glared at Alex, and replied, "Hit me."

She placed said bowl in front of him, and Dante proceeded to dip his pizza in it.

…And it was actually pretty good.

It seemed to Alex that Dante had taken her comment to heart because he was eating her out of house and home.

When he wasn't raiding her hidden stash of snack cakes, he kept her busy throwing away pizza boxes and empty tubs of strawberry ice cream…she was reminded of one of the biggest things she despised about Dante.

Two days in, after the disappearance of her hazelnut Kinder Hippos, she begged Morrison to get him a job.

Morrison worked a few miracles, like usual, and lined up jobs for Dante, along with V and A. On top of Dante being a gluttonous pig and stealing her favorite candy, V and A were getting agitated and were quick to pick a fight with each other; all three were frankly beginning to try on her nerves.

She missed her peace and quiet.

Both Rock and Nico had called in some rather large orders, something she was thankful for—it would mitigate the hit to her paycheck from the other three hunters taking the jobs, and it would keep her in her forges and away from them.

Alex stepped out to the alleyway in the back; to a normal human, there appeared to be a small storage shed. But it actually contained a small pocket dimension that contained her entire workshop; it's how jinn could fit in small objects…like, say, oil lamps.

She stepped inside, fired up the forges with a snap of her fingers, and promptly went to work.

Before Alex quite realized it, Nico popped her head in the door.

"Alex! Hey, Alex! Can you HEAR ME?!"

Alex tried her best not to wince. "Yeah, go hang in my room. Almost done."

Nico nodded and disappeared and left Alex to finish up her work. It was another hour before she felt done (and less irritable) enough to stop. She wiped the sweat from her brow and headed back down the stairs to her room.

Nico was piled up on Alex's bed with some of her books on demonic arms; she gleefully flipped through the pages and furiously scribbled notes. She often wondered how the hell Agnus could've sired Nico…and then she'd see things like this. The apples truly don't fall far from the trees.

Which made Alex wonder how Nero favored Vergil…it still felt weird to acknowledge the whole family tie thing.

Nico glanced up from her ministrations and jumped at the sight of Alex. "Dammit, can you STOP sneaking up on me? Yer' gonna give me a heart attack!"

"Nope," Alex replied with a suitably deadpan face. "It brings me joy."

Nico squinted at Alex. "…Can't tell if you're kidding sometimes."

"Nico. It's a joke."

She grinned sheepishly. "And so it is! Thought I'd drop in. Is, uh…Dante here? Heard he was back!"

"He's out on a mission right now. You're just stuck with little ol' me."

Nico looked a little put out by that. "Well, dang it! Guess I'll have to come back when Nero decides to visit, then. Kyrie'll make him behave and call ahead."

She picked up the messenger bag that she had discarded at the foot of Alex's bed. "But not a totally wasted trip! Got something for you anyway."

Nico tossed the bag to Alex; the objects bumped together in the bag and rang metallic as Alex caught them. With her brows furrowed in curiosity, Alex pulled out the mystery objects.

The Artisan of Arms launched right into an explanation without even giving Alex time to ask what they were. "So you know how using your magic-y powers too much make your nose bleed, right—of course ya' do, that's rhetorical—because your magic comes with a physical cost, right? Well, I've been thinking about how we can fix that…and BAM! Those bad boys! They can absorb and store your magic, so you can just pull from that in emergencies."

Alex slipped on the simple silver cuffs and admired Nico's craftsmanship; the elegant engravings glowed purple, and Alex felt a chill lick up her spine. It was apparently working already.

Alec's normally cool gaze warmed with gratitude. "Thanks, Nico. When did you get time to study those markings on my blades?"

Nico beamed like a million-watt lightbulb. "I don't hang out here just to abuse yer' books, y'know!"

Alex flicked Nico's nose affectionately. "C'mon, let me treat you to some lunch."

Five minutes later, just as she had promised, she pulled the shower cap from his head and carefully ran her fingers through his hair just to make sure most of the tangles had been removed. Dante was very tender-headed.

He only howled and swore once, so she figured this was as good as it was gonna get. She ordered him to rinse out his hair in her tub, and she dug around in her drawers for her good shears. When she turned around, he was sopping wet in all his shirtless glory.

She was definitely caught off-guard—Christ, it had been pretty much twenty years at this point since she had seen him so naked—but she had to admit the effect was ruined by how skinny he looked. She could see his ribs.

When she raised a brow at him, he dabbed a little more at the scruff of his neck and smiled oh-so-innocently. "What? I didn't want to get hair in my shirt."

She merely shook her head and motioned for him to sit in the chair she had placed in front of her bathroom mirror.

"How long do you want it?"

"How long do you think it should be, babe?"

Had it been any other man, she would've knocked him into next Tuesday.

"That's not an answer."

"Well, you're better at this than I am."

"You've always looked like a mop, so you tell me."

"Have not! Don't give me that look."

But she did give him said look, and he sighed. "…Fine, gimme the mop."

She went to work trimming away the dead ends just like her mother had taught her. She trimmed his bangs well, too, so they brushed his eyes like they always did.

Alex would never admit this out loud, but she preferred his hair longer anyway. It was very…to be completely cliche…devil may care. Quintessential Dante.

"Do you want me to blow dry it?"

He grinned boyishly. "Well, if you're offering…"

She rolled her eyes at him but complied. The texture of his hair had much improved, and with all of the grooming, Dante looked more like himself than he had in years.

He practically purred as she swept her fingers through his hair one final time.

"There, finished."

"Shit, babe…can't tell you the last time I looked this good!"

He flicked his hair, and he flexed, and he made a general scene of admiring himself in her mirror.

She merely shook her head and was going to leave him to do his thing when his fingers curled around her elbow.

"Hey, wait a minute." His voice was surprisingly soft. "Come back."

Alex turned back to face him, and he gently parted her bangs and placed a kiss on her forehead. It was like she had been struck by lightning.

"Thanks for the power-up, by the way."

"You aren't supposed to remember that."

"Well, I do. And I'm guessing you never told anybody else what you did?"

"No."

"Priestly!" he sighed. "I'll never understand you and your martyr ways."

Alex gave him another one of her infamous looks. "Takes one to know one."

He grimaced. "Yeah…you got me there."

The conversation dropped off then, and Alex knew she needed to move. Being in such close quarters with Dante always had unintended consequences.

She was determined not to get sucked back into his dicksand a second time.

"So…do you want an official tour of the place?"

He sniffed. "Can't be worse than what you did to my room."

Alex simply rolled her eyes and motioned for him to follow. She first showed him the multitude of flat files that lined the rest of the basement and slid open a drawer. A host of dangerous magical amulets and Alistair were nestled on top of black foam. Alistair gleamed angrily at him.

"And you did this with everything that was down here?"

"Yeah…no wonder the shop was pretty much cursed. You had things thrown together that should never exist in the same place. The Professor's storing some of it himself."

He just breezily smiled at her chastising. "Anyway, how's your brood?"

"Oh, good. The Professor finally put in for his retirement at the end of year. Mother's not gonna know what to do with him. Dmitri and Evie got married; they have two now."

"God, two kids. That's crazy!"

Alex smiled. "Yeah, they're great." She grabbed a picture frame sitting on her desk—a photo of her holding her niece and nephew—and handed it to Dante.

Honestly, he was a little mystified by the woman in the picture. Alex looked so relaxed and happy, and he had never seen her look at even Evie with that much love.

"Funny that you two aren't related by blood, but…the boy looks a lot like you." He handed her back the picture. "Weird how that works."

She placed it back on the desk. "Yeah, Xander. He's a little spitfire. Taken after his dad's powers, so Dmitri tries his best with him…but he doesn't like to listen."

Dante grinned. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

"So…what about you and the whole…Nero-nephew thing?"

"That's a loaded question…I'll take a raincheck on that one for now. But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You know…what have you been up to? Anybody special in your life? Shit like that."

Alex shrugged. "Well, the usual…working. Traveling. Been working pretty closely with Nico for a while now. Plus Morrison and I have been getting your shit business out of the red."

He smiled sheepishly at that. "Guess Trish and Lady were none too thrilled with that?"

"They got bored after a few months, and things went right back to normal. Besides, Lady's actually getting paid back now."

His sheepish grin only grew more sheepish. "That's…great."

"C'mon, lemme show you the rest of the place."

Dante noticed she didn't answer the last question but decided it was best not to push—he honestly didn't know if he wanted the answer.

So he followed in behind her and admired her ass and legs as they ascended the stairs; what she lacked in tits, she definitely made up for in legs. God, how many kisses had he placed on those delightful thighs…

She stopped and pinned him with her patented Alex Glare; hm, maybe it had gotten even more potent.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't stare so hard."

He grinned lecherously. "Just admiring the view."

And also the patented eyebrow raise. "The view doesn't want to be admired."

"The view can get over it."

The view sent him sailing down the stairs with a deft kick of those delicious legs.

He landed at the bottom of the stairs with a resounding thud—just enough to knock the air from his lungs and rattle his brain in his skull, but not enough to damage the floor.

"If you're ready to quit acting like an ass, I'll show you the new liquor cabinet."

When he returned five minutes later, he sheepishly accepted his tea with the milk and sugar she silently provided.

She didn't have to say anything; her stupidly beautiful dark eyes did the talking for her. And when he had finished the tea, she handed him another slice. He ate it more slowly this time.

Alex disappeared for a few minutes to do Alex-y things, and Dante turned to V.

"So are you gonna tell her, or am I?"

V sipped his tea. "I think it'll be better coming from you."

"She'll have questions."

A sighed. "We probably won't be able to answer them."

"I guess this is like the third craziest thing I've ever done…maybe fourth or fifth. Who knows?"

Alex reappeared. "I've got you some towels and a change of clothes in the guest bathroom around the corner. I'll wash what you're wearing now. You both stink like Hell, too."

They hemmed and hawed for a few moments over who was going first, until V reasoned with A they she had been the one to break them out of Hell and therefore deserved to go first. For once, she didn't argue with him; she pushed away her plate and mug with a small "thanks" and headed for the bathroom.

"Guest bedrooms are upstairs on the right." Alex shot V a look that suggested he needed to leave her and Dante alone. V decided this was his time to make a quiet retreat.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Dante objected. "This ain't a charity. I said they could hang around for a few hours, and that's it."

"Dante," Alex replied with a sense of calm that Dante had learned the hard way was a warning. "I'm the reason you're no longer default on the loan on this place. And you haven't paid rent in seven years, either."

"Damn, so it really is true then."

"What's true?"

"You're gonna wanna sit."

"Dante, what is it?"

"Don't say I didn't warn ya. So…time travel."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, so, V and A—that's what they're calling themselves, by the way—are technically…time travelers."

Alex sat down.

"So Vergil and I were still fighting off demons in the U.W. a few hours ago, right? We hear these two arguing voices…those kids. They're trying to find us. So apparently they had been kicked back to now by this guy named Moros. So they made a deal to get us out of hell in exchange for our help."

"Dante, seriously? Making deals like that without knowing who they are?"

"You're the one who offered to let them stay with us."

"That was before I knew all this."

"Besides…I made a deal like that with you when we first met."

She made a face at him; a victory to savor, as he didn't win these arguments often.

He shrugged. "And it's just the right thing to do, right?"

The nail in her self-righteous coffin.

She could do little more than sigh and pinch the bride of her nose. "Suppose we're due for another world-saving adventure."

"It's like I never left!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A, with the extra clothes clutched in her arms, trudged up the spiral metal staircase to the guest bedrooms on the second floor. She wasn't sure she trusted Alex to wash her clothes, despite the fact that V would do anything any of them asked.

He worshipped the tales of the legendary devil hunters that they had encountered today. A trusted V with all her heart—truly she did—but he could be a dumbass who wore his heart on his sleeve.

This vexation with him only grew as she eased open the door to the first guest bedroom, and he was simply sitting on the bed and looking all moon-eyed.

"V, snap out of it."

V looked at her, and she knew he knew what she was thinking…but the little bastard's silly smile grew into a giddy grin.

"It's them, Aur—"

"Don't you finish my name," she hissed at him, "you know there are eyes and ears everywhere."

V rolled his eyes. "Don't you ever enjoy anything?"

"I'll enjoy myself a lot more when we're back home, with Moros dead, without affecting anything in this time stream. Don't you realize, if we mess something up, you might not be born?"

A couldn't help the worry that snuck into her voice, and V was reminded of the weight of all the unspoken things between them.

"Sorry" he apologized with a sigh and wrapped her into a hug. "It's just…these people. This is kinda where it begins for me, you know?"

His eyes got wide. "Double shit. How did we get thrown so far back?"

"That blast from Moros must've been more powerful than we thought. Asshole."

"We've got to get back."

"That's statin' the obvious."

Vergil just flipped her a bird and went back to pacing uselessly.

She continued to zoom in ever closer to the information on her astrolabe. If she could just pinpoint their exact location…

"Huh. We're just under Redgrave City."

Vergil halted. "The Redgrave City?"

"Seems like it."

"What year did you say it was again?"

"2026."

They figured it out at the same time. "Dante and Vergil."

"Do you still think they're down here?"

As if to answer them, there was a clash like thunder that rattled the very fabric of Hell.

Aurelia grabbed Vergil's arm before he could run toward the commotion.

"No, sir—it's very obvious whom you belong to." She motioned at his silvery hair. "Ya' need a disguise."

She placed a glamor on him—his mop of silver hair transformed into thick brown curls and his unusually bright blue eyes darkened to a blue hazel. It felt kinda weird seeing him this way, if she were totally honest.

"I'm calling you V, and you're calling me A. The less they know about us, the better. Remember…order."

"Yeah," he said breezily, "Timelines…butterfly effects…got it."

"Do you?" she questioned. "You like spillin' your guts to strangers."

He pulled his arm from her grip. "You're the exception rather than the rule."

She snorted, and he scrunched up his face in distaste.

"How 'bout you just let me do the talkin'?"

Dante and Vergil paused their battle long enough to decimate the next group of demons stupid enough to challenge them. When the last screech stopped ringing in the air, the sound was replaced by…arguing?

"We don't have time to stop! We've got to find them now."

"Look, I know this is pretty personal an' all…but they aren't just gonna tell us where they are!"

"Are you looking for us?" Dante called.

The arguing pair very obviously paused.

A face popped over the side of the bridge that was above Dante and Vergil. It was a young woman—no older than seventeen. The Sons of Sparda shared a puzzled look; how in the hell did they get…well, in Hell?

"I'd like your word that you won't kill us on sight. We ain't here to do battle."

"You're not dead yet, are you?"

"Fair enough." She pointed to Vergil. "But it's you I'm worried about."

The twins shared another look—just who was this girl?

But Vergil relented with a sigh and sheathed Yamato. "On my honor."

"Thank ya'…So, uh, how do we get down there?"

Dante squinted at the pair. "Yeah…I'm afraid I don't follow."

Vergil frowned. "You're going to need to give us a little more to go on than that."

The boy, now suspiciously known as V, shook his head. "We can't without giving away some pretty sensitive information."

The girl, now known as A, added, "It could alter the future otherwise."

"But you're saying you can get us the hell out of here?"

"Yes."

"In exchange for help with this Moros guy."

V and A looked at each other. "…We'll take whatever help you can give us to get back."

"What do you think, Verg?"

He peered closely at the pair. "How are you going to get us out of here without tearing a hole in reality?"

V looked over to A. She sighed; he really should know this by now.

"The veil between world's still pretty thin here. It'll be like popping a pimple…apply just enough pressure, we get out, and it'll heal back closed on its own."

"…That's a super gross analogy. Does that explanation satisfy you, bro?"

Vergil smiled sardonically. "What could go wrong?"

"…It's settled then. Just get me the hell outta here—I got a pizza joint calling my name."

Aurelia pointed to Yamato. "However, I am gonna need a lil' boost from that."

Vergil wordlessly gripped the sword tighter to himself, and Aurelia rolled her eyes.

"Just stab it into the ground over there."

After a few long moments, he complied. It was easily still within its reach if these children attempted to betray him…and Dante. Of course.

As Aurelia approached the sword, she began to chant in a tongue so ancient, it made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. The very air shimmered with her words, and glowing fractals and symbols began to appear around Yamato.

Vergil nearly jumped her as she placed a hand on the pommel, but he ground to a halt as a swirling portal winked into existence. In the haze of the vortex, he could see the crumbling and charred remains of their childhood home, and his heart plummeted at the sight.

The vortex began to slow, the haze began to clear, and the light refracted around the edges of the portal; it was almost like staring into a mirror now.

"Get ready, you two!"

The stream of A's words ended, and she swayed as the power was drained from her; V caught her in his arms as he leaped through the portal. Dante followed behind him, and Vergil was a mere blur as he snapped up Yamato and disappeared through the gate.

The metal tip of Yamato's scabbard just breezed through the portal before it collapsed.

"Your pal gonna be okay?" Dante motioned to A, whose eyes opened and closed languidly. All the color was drained from her face, and her breathing was shallow.

V cradled her a little closer to him. "Yeah, she'll be fine. She just needs some rest. It takes a lot out of her."

Dante grunted knowingly and thought of Alex. Speaking of the devil, he wondered if she had actually taken him up on his offer. She'd be a great person to deal with V and A and all this shit right now.

"Why don't you two follow me back to the shop? You can crash on the couch for a few hours." He glanced at Vergil.

"You comin' too, Verg?"

Vergil had been staring hard at the charred remains of their childhood home, but his nearly colorless eyes flicked back to Dante. He wondered how Dante could be so seemingly nonchalant in the sight of this.

"…No. But I'll be in touch."

And then only the glimmer of his teleport remained.

But, unbeknownst to Vergil, Dante did pause and stare at their old house for one long moment. He finally tore his gaze away and looked at V and A.

A was beginning to look a little better; the light had returned back to her eyes, and she looked more conscious.

"Think you can carry her into town? I need to find a payphone."

V nodded. "If you'll help me get her on my back."

Dante complied with his request; little A was as light as a feather. He maneuvered her so that she settled easily onto V's slimmer frame. V wasn't bulky at all, but Dante could tell by the way the muscles moved under his skin that he had a wiry strength. But he didn't carry any weapons that Dante saw. Interesting.

V wordlessly followed after Dante, who clearly knew the area better, and the pair traveled in silence as they moved back toward the city limits.

While the area was still pretty decimated, life had begun to return to the streets of Redgrave. The sun was beginning to set, and people were packing up to go home for the evening. Upon sight of Dante and his rather large blade, they steered clear of him. Even these normies had begun to hear the legends and tales of Sparda and his sons.

Since Dante, apparently, had spent the last seven years exclusively with Vergil, he knew a tentative silence if he ever heard one.

"You want to ask me a question."

"What?" V had been taken off guard.

"C'mon, what do you want to know? Within reason."

V paused, and Dante pinned him under a look that V couldn't quite describe. It was uncanny to stare into eyes that so reflected his own.

"It's just…why are you helping us?"

"Well, that was part of the deal, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but why? Why give us a place to stay? We're strangers."

"Oh, I didn't say you were staying, unless you can pay rent up front. But you can regroup for a few hours to figure out what the hell you're doing."

"But why even do that? You don't have to."

Dante shrugged. "It's the right thing to do."

V had to remember to follow after him.

After praying to every divinity goddess he thought he had seen recently that he had enough change in his pockets to make a call, Dante punched in the familiar number to Morrison's office. It was always a gamble if someone was in the shop, and Morrison was usually good at getting in touch with the other hunters…while they usually ignored him.

Assholes.

The receiver picked up promptly after two rings. "It's Morrison."

"Well, hey there, old man," Dante greeted with equal parts glee and fondness.

"Holy shit, Dante?" Morrison laughed with great surprise. "How the hell did you get out?"

"Buy me a pizza, and I'll tell you about it sometime."

"Naw, you'll eat me outta house and home. Buy me a drink, and you can tell me about it."

"Gotta have cash for that, so I'll have to rain check. Speaking of being strapped, lemme make this quick—can somebody come pick me and my plus two up?"

"Plus two? Wait—don't tell me. Alex came by to pick up her paycheck, so she should probably be back at the shop by now. Do her weird-ass teleport powers work on other people?"

Dante was secretly pleased that she had taken the job at the shop. "They can…it's not fun."

"Well, unless you wanna wait another day for Nero to come pick you up in the van, that's probably gonna be your best bet."

"…You can't pick me up in that chopper again?"

"That was paid for by half of your brother."

Dante scowled. "Ah…just text her then."

And the call was cut short by the collect tone.

Dante glanced at the sleeping pair slouched against each other. His eyes felt heavy too, but every time he would nod off, his stomach would growl.

Alex needed to hurry her ass up.

As if on cue, his skin began to tingle; she must've been scrying for him. He had hardly been more thankful for her freaky-ass powers.

That tall, slender shape began to form from his shadow, and V and A instantly awakened at her emerging presence.

But before he could even breathe a word to her, she took one look at him and laughed out loud.

"Holy shit…you look like Gandalf."

He plucked his beard. "Look, I apparently spent seven years growing this thing out…have some respect."

She hummed with amusement before glancing at the now-alert V and A. "Are these the plus two Morrison mentioned?"

Alex could feel her eyebrow beginning to rise at the sight of the boy, who was looking at her almost like he had seen a ghost. "You've got a name?"

"Sorry…just call me V. This is A."

Alex pinned an uncomfortably long stare on A. By this time, A had fully regained consciousness but hadn't felt like talking. Despite her ashen and hollowed face, she glared back defiantly at Alex.

"You're a witch, aren't you?"

"So I am. What's it ta' you?"

Alex shrugged. "Nothing. Just an observation."

She summoned two vials from her utility belt; one she tossed to A, who caught it with great suspicion, and the other she popped the stopper and chugged herself. A drank hers after that.

Alex grimaced at the taste and collected her vials back into her pouch. She extended a hand.

"Who's going first? I can't take all three of you at once."

Dante motioned to V and A. "Take the kiddos first."

They scowled at being called children, but Alex grabbed them both by the forearms before they had time to argue. The world went black and blazed in color as their molecules buzzed around for the second time that day, and they reformed inside the Devil May Cry office.

"I'll know if you touch anything. Be right back."

Alex plunged back into the ether and again appeared in front of Dante. She wordlessly held out her hand to him, and she tried not to acknowledge the thrill of his fingers curling around hers again.

When Dante and Alex reappeared, V and A were already asleep on the couch.

Dante whistled quietly. "You guys have done a lot to this place."

"It needed plenty of renovations."

"…You touched my room, didn't you? Priestly! That's a breach of contract!"

"Would I ever do something like that?"

"You would absolutely disregard my wishes."

"Framed and hung your tasteless posters, though. And cleaned your toilet. You should be thanking me."

"But you've ruined my system of organized chaos, and I won't thank you for that."

Alex merely rolled her eyes. "Why don't you grab a shower? You smell disgusting."

"You wound me." But he didn't argue, and for once, did exactly as she asked.

Alex ordered pizza—hold the olives—and went to wash the dishes in the sink before it was delivered. Since it was just her at the office most of the time, she still hadn't bothered to order a dishwasher. Maybe now was a good time to invest in one…

When he entered his room, Dante scrunched his nose up at the cleanliness. His posters had been neatly framed and tastefully hung, all his clothes had been picked up off the floor and washed and deposited in his dresser and closet, and his bedsheets had been clearly washed and his bed made. His bathroom was in no better of a state—well-arranged and restocked and totally immaculate.

Only Alex would do such caring bullshit.

Even a clean towel and washcloth hung on the towel rack, and Dante could only shake his head as he peeled off his ruined clothes.

Hm…he was looking a little on the thin side. Guess he hadn't eaten actual human food in seven years…or so V and A claimed. He'd have to confirm that with Alex just to make sure those two weren't trying to pull wool over his eyes.

Dante turned the water on as hot as he could stand it and simply stood under the stream. Who knew hot water could feel so good?

He scrubbed his skin 'til it turned almost pink and washed his hair as best as he could; it was so knotted and tangled. He'd probably also have to get Alex to help him trim his hair.

But the beard he could get rid of himself; it felt rad as hell to pluck at it, but he had to acknowledge that he did indeed look a little too much like Gandalf…and yeah, no. He browsed through the now-organized cabinets, found his electric razor, and went to town.

He rubbed at his chin and jaw and grimaced at how strangely naked his face felt again. He'd definitely grow a little scruff back.

Dante threw on a delightfully fresh change of clothes, and his stomach howled as he opened his bedroom door to the smell of pizza, no olives, just like he liked it.

Damn Alex and her wifey-ass shit. Part of him wished the freaking harpies had been the ones to greet him from his stint in the U.W.; he was distinctly reminded of the time in his life when he had come dangerously close to settling down.

And the woman, the very one who had very nearly compelled him to just commit…he could hear her setting plates out at the bar in the kitchen. In his mind's eye, he could see her cracking open the pizza box and distributing pizza on said plates. Being all considerate and shit, just 'cause she could.

"Oo, oo, I got it!" Nico cut Nero off. "So ol' Whitey over here is the son of Vergil, Dante's older twin brother, so that makes Dante his uncle! Vergil tried to use Yamato to separate himself into his demon side, that asshole Urizen, and V, his slightly-less-asshole-ish human side."

"V wasn't that big of an asshole!"

Nico tutted at Nero. "It's not what he said…it's what he didn't say. Anyways, Dante swooped in outta nowhere at the last minute with his new cool-ass devil trigger, and he was able to subdue Urizen—even though he had eaten the Qliphoth fruit—long enough for V to reintegrate with Urizen and become Vergil again!"

Alex could do little more than shake her head. "Wild."

"But that ain't the best part, right? Nero was gonna try to take a chunk outta Vergil's ass too, 'specially since he did lob off Nero's arm in the first place, but Dante stopped him before he could do the deed to tell Nero Vergil is his father! I mean, he can wield Yamato, so that's not much of a stretch, really."

"I'm right here, you know."

Nico continued to completely ignore Nero. "Soooo, despite that, Dante and Vergil are determined to kill each other, yeah? But Nero decides ain't nobody dying, breaks the two of 'em up, backhands the shit outta Dante, and defeats Vergil in battle! Not to mention he somehow got a new arm and a whole new devil trigger too!"

"Sparda logic," Alex interjected dryly. (Lady and Trish hummed their agreement.)

"But the Qliphoth tree was still growing, even though Nero and V took outta bunch of the roots an' shit, so Dante and Vergil put aside their differences long enough to go back into the Underworld to officially cut off that damn tree's entrance into the human world."

"…And got trapped sealing the gate behind them," Alex grimly stated.

Everyone in the room, and Nero especially, got a little more somber at that.

"Yeah…so, that basically brings us to the present day. Trish, Lady, y'all wanna add anything to that?"

"They'll be back," Lady retorted with an irritable sigh.

"Plenty of ways in and out of Hell if you know where to look," Trish added with a roll of her eyes.

Alex, again, shook her head. "They've both done it at least once."

A few days later…

Alex sliced through a few empusa that were plaguing a local business; after the fall of the Tree, they were everywhere. Frankly, she made more money outright killing the drones than from harvesting their parts—only the queens were worth anything.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, so she made short work of the last of them. It was a text from Morrison: come drop by when you get a chance. but knock on my office door like a normal person.

Alex smirked at the text and went to collect her pay, then she teleported to his office door just like he asked and knocked.

"Alex! Long time, no see!"

"Good thing or bad thing?"

"Bit of both."

They both smiled at that, and she settled into one of his comfortable office chairs.

Morrison reached into his desk and retrieved a file. "So, in an event like this one, Dante's asked me to watch over his estate. Y'know, protect it from the harpies—his words."

Alex raised an amused eyebrow. "Is there any estate to protect from the harpies?"

"Well, your old man is a demonic arms' expert—you probably know just from being in the shop that Dante has quite a collection of rare weapons. But does that cover his debt? Hell no."

She smirked. "He's been broke as long as I've known him."

"That makes two of us. But anyway, down to business." He slipped a sheaf of papers from the file and placed them in front of her. It was a contract.

"With his being gone, Dante knew there'd be an open spot at the Devil May Cry office that'd need to be filled. He asked me to offer it to you."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Wouldn't he offer that to Nero before me?"

"He and Nico are assigned under the, uh, mobile unit."

Alex stared down at the contract; she was honestly surprised he'd even offer. They'd parted ways on some pretty shitty terms and had spoken sparingly since.

She probably would've said no immediately had it not been for the fact that she was already looking for somewhere that would be nearer to Evie and the baby. The Devil May Cry office was a good deal closer than her current situation, even if it was a piece-of-shit building with a penchant for being attacked.

"…I'm gonna need space to set up my workshop."

Morrison slipped on his spectacles and leafed through the file. "So he says—and I quote—the Triad can do whatever the hell they want as long as they don't throw away my posters, the couch, the jukebox, or touch my room."

Hm, Triad. Hadn't heard that nickname for Her, Trish, and Lady in many moons.

Her face screwed up in great distaste. "Yeah…his bathroom is still getting cleaned."

Morrison shrugged. "You know it's all talk—he ain't got the money to sue you for breach of contract."

She sighed. "Hand me a pen before I decide this is a bad idea."

Morrison did as she asked, and she signed the papers before she could think twice. She passed them both back to Morrison.

Thankfully, the armor seemed to be serving its purpose because this area was well-enough devoid of demonic activity. She stepped up to the pool (trying her best not to think about the source of it) and stared into its depths.

As the light flitted across the crimson surface, her breathing slowed and her senses opened up; in her mind’s eye, she saw roots twisting around Dante’s form. There was a shop sign she could recognize, a place she could teleport to get to him more easily. The vision revealed more—a sword. She could feel the thrum of Force Edge’s power, a balm to her distressed spirit.

And just as quickly as the vision had come upon her, it disappeared.  

She, at least, knew how to find him and where to take him. 

—

Alex knew it was a gamble to shed the armor, but considering its weight and size, she didn’t think she could teleport with it on—not in the shape she was in. And she had precious little time and energy as it was.

The armor crumpled completely as she descended into the astral plane and reformed just at the place the vision had shown her. She slew the creatures that appeared nearby and destroyed several of the blood sacs that sustained the roots. They withered up and dissolved into dust, which revealed Dante’s body. 

She triggered and, as gently as she could manage in this state, gathered him up in her arms. Even in her current form, he seemed so heavy. Rebellion, shattered, was still clutched in his grip. She tried not to think about how cold he was or how blue his lips were.

Once again, she followed her vision and teleported to the place she had seen Force Edge. Stars filled her vision as she collapsed with Dante just under the blade. It had taken quite a bit out of her to transport them both; all she could smell was her own blood as it leaked from her nostrils, and she could hardly see out of her right eye. Even her ears rang—she touched a hand to her ear and discovered blood.

But she simply summoned up three more vials—two of her remaining devil star elixirs and one she had saved for a situation only like this: her single Philosopher’s elixir. 

She restored her magic to replenish her health and then restored it again to use the remaining elixir. Flamel’s research had been largely lost to time, and each precious resource was jealously guarded. No one had ever successfully replicated his formula for his Elixir of Life, but she and her adopted father (whom she affectionately called the Professor) had been one of the few to get close.

But there was a catch to this elixir—the law of equivalent exchange. Nothing in the universe is created or destroyed, merely transferred. To create life, one must give life. 

For this elixir to work, she had to transfer part of her very life essence into Dante. This plan had a very strong chance of killing her. 

He had nearly given his life for her once, and as she brushed his stupid moppy hair from his handsome face, she knew it was the right thing to do. 

So she popped off the cork, took half of it like a shot, and tilted Dante’s head and pressed the vial to his lips. The liquid disappeared, and Alex was immediately seized up with pain. 

Her sight burned white hot, and her lungs groaned for air. She had drowned once, and this was like drowning in fire. The elixir clawed through her veins and snatched away her life force like a black hole swallows light, and her one last coherent thought was to latch onto Dante. 

Her essence diffused through his skin and glittered purple in his blood vessels. His rigor mortis reversed—a shuttering thrum once, twice—his heartbeat spluttered, and the blood sluggishly flowed through his veins again. He gasped, and his breath continued slow and shallow. 

Her breathing and heartbeat synced up with his; his was picking up and hers was slowing down. The color began to return to his face, and Alex barely clung to consciousness.

At this point, Dante was a fourth alive, and Alex was three-fourths dead. She just needed a sign to break the contact. 

His eyes opened for just a moment—a languid flash of silvery blue. “Alex?”

That was her sign. She placed a kiss on his forehead, and with the last of her strength, transported herself into the Professor’s study.

—

A day later, Alex awoke in her childhood bedroom. The bitter tang of several different elixirs filled her mouth, and her face screwed up in disgust. She was usually subjecting other people to this specific torture, and now she remembered exactly why everyone hated it so much. It was like cough syrup on crack. 

She took stock of her limbs: everything worked, and everything hurt. Her breath hitched as she sat up in her old bed—a few of her ribs were at least fractured. 

“You lay back down this instant, Alexandria Priestly!” came the uncannily-timed order of her adopted mother, Abigail Priestly. She was so unlike Alex: short, blonde, blue-eyed, and full-figured.

Despite the fact that she was a full-grown woman herself, Alex immediately complied. Abigail’s favorite saying? I may not have brought you into this world, but I’ll take you out of it, young lady!

In spite of her very stern tone, Abigail had clearly cried at some point today—Alex immediately felt guilty. Abigail carried a tray with a sandwich and hot tea for Alex. 

“You know the drill,” Abigail stated with just a little venom. “Eat your sandwich slowly. I’ll make you another if you can keep it down for a little while.”

Alex silently obeyed. It was a simple ham and cheese, but her hunger made it exponentially more appetizing. The best sandwich she had in years.

“You gave us quite the scare,” Abigail, knowing full well Alex wasn’t going to talk, finally blurted out in tears. “It hasn’t been this bad since—”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Well, sorry isn’t enough, you know! We deserve an explanation.”

Alex slowly raised her arms in surrender and wheezed, “It just…hurts to talk.”

“…Oh.”

“Where’s the…Professor?”

“Oh, you know Oswin. Once he figured out you weren’t going to die, he dumped you off on me and went straight back to his research at the university.”

Alex smiled at her thinly-veiled barb. “Figures.”

Abigail had softened up enough to reach over and tuck Alex’s hair behind her ears. “You look kinda rough, kiddo. Get a shower if you’re feeling up to it. Evie’s coming over for dinner later, so make sure to stay alive until then, please and thank you.”

“No promises.”

She sighed with great sarcasm. “I figured as much.”

As Abigail left the room, Alex eased herself up from her bed and slowly got to her feet. Just the simple act of getting up took a great deal of energy, and Alex knew she would have to settle for a quick shower in the minuscule stall she and her sister Evie had shared growing up. 

Evie, short for Evangelina, was Oswin and Abigail’s daughter. The Professor had adopted Alex from an orphanage when she was five; the Professor had met Abigail when she was six, and Evie was born four years later. 

It had taken her a while to warm up to the Professor and even longer to warm up to Abigail; but she had taken almost immediately to Evie. Ever since Evie was born, she had been her sister’s keeper. Evie infinitely frustrated her—they were so completely different—but she was probably the reason why Alex had such strong mothering instincts. 

She thought about Evie, and Nero and Nico and Kyrie, and the kids Nero and Kyrie looked after; and now was one of those times she had wondered what would’ve happened if the Professor hadn’t found her when he did. 

Her real father would’ve succeeded.

And she thought of fathers and mothers, and the tragic stories of Dante, Trish, and Lady, and hoped with all her might that the three were okay. Trish and Lady were the toughest women she knew; their auras had not been snuffed out like Dante’s had. It was like they had been…covered up? Swallowed? 

Unfortunately, that probably meant they were suffering from a form of possession now—and didn’t Alex know how nasty that was to battle. Her real father, more like her creator, had tried to do that very thing.

And Dante? Well, she had quite frankly sacrificed a lot during her life for that handsome twat; so she considered her debt to him fully repaid.

The water began to run lukewarm, so she quickly scrubbed the blood and muck from her hair and skin and stepped out. 

As she was drying off her hair, someone knocked at the door.

“Alex?” It was Evie. “Can I step in?”

“Yeah.” She tucked her towel around her.

Evie looked rather like a cherub—petite frame, curly blonde hair, and large dark eyes (the only vague resemblance she had to Alex, who also had dark eyes). “Mom asked me to bring some clothes up for you.”

Evie tossed them to Alex; thankfully she had left a spare set or two of clothes here. Her lip curled back in pain as she tugged them on. She felt much better after her shower and meal, but man, she was sore.

“You look like shit, homie.”

“Thanks,” Alex replied dryly. “Did almost just die.”

“Figured you were due for one of those here soon.” Evie tried to shrug it off casually, but Alex could tell by the look in her eye that she was deeply concerned.

“Duty calls.”

“Heh,” was all Evie said; this had been the source of many an argument between them. Sometimes angry, nasty arguments—the kind where they didn’t speak to each other for weeks. 

“Let’s not fight about it,” Alex pleaded. “I can’t.”

Evie pinned her under a hard stare (as hard as her cute face could muster), but she relented with a sigh. “Fine. I don’t want to fight about it either. It’s just…it worries me. I never know what state you’re gonna come home in…and now…”

The way Evie touched her abdomen was very suspicious, and then Alex suddenly sensed it—a flutter as soft as the beat of a moth’s wings. A tiny little heartbeat, and a tiny little aura. 

Alex gasped, and Evie’s eyes filled with happy tears. “I haven’t even told Mom or Dad yet!”

“I’m gonna be an aunt??”

“Yes!”

They both pulled each other into a big hug and laughed and cried. Alex was honestly so happy that they both began to float.

“Alex!” Evie squealed with laughter, “Put us down!”

With some rare laughter herself, Alex did indeed put them both down.

“And I’m hoping Dmitri’s put a ring on that finger…”

“Oh, quit with that look.” She slipped a ring out of her pocket—a vintage opal ring surrounded by diamonds. It was perfect. “We wanted to announce it over dinner this evening.”

“And before you ask me that question, yes, he did ask me before he found out I was pregnant.”

“…I never doubted him.”

“Liar!” Evie snorted. “And I don’t know why you’d ever question him—you’re the one who found him for me, after all.”

It was true, Alex had met Dmitri, a half-devil like herself, on one of her many travels. Unlike someone like Nero, for example, he hadn’t had a few kind sets of guiding hands. Life had been Dmitri’s teacher, and he was rough around the edges. But after she knocked some sense into him, he became one of her more constant partners on jobs. 

And, one day, he finally got to meet Evie; and it seemed like one look from the Baby Cherub herself was enough to melt the ice around his heart. And just like Evie had done with Alex, she drew him out of his shell; he actually began to smile and laugh, though he was still exponentially more quiet than Evie.

…Basically anyone was quieter than Evie.

“I’m really glad I followed my gut on that one. I’m so happy for you, Evie.”

And as Alex hugged Evie to herself, all Evie could think was, I wish you would find that happiness, too.

—

But alas, Alex wasn’t as done with the Redgrave situation as she had hoped; Nico called a few days later and asked for Alex’s help translating Agnus’s old research notes.

It appeared that Nero had given Nico a month to help him come up with a new Arm in hopes that he and V could return to the city and finally finish off Urizen (the so-called Demon King) and destroy the Qliphoth tree.

So she borrowed a bunch of the Professor’s old texts, and she spent the next week pouring round-the-clock over the translations and the diagrams and the nearly unintelligible scribbles while Nico furiously sketched up notes and drafts of what she was beginning to call the Devil Breaker. It would function much like Nero’s Devil Bringer would, but the breaker would have all kinds of crazy abilities. 

Alex stared at all Nico’s sketches. “Nico…we’re not going to be able to do all this in a month.”

“I know…I’ll make ‘em as I go along. I’m gonna start with this one.” She pointed to the one she named Overture. 

“This’un’ll be the simplest to make. So…uh…what metals you got in stock?”

“What properties do you want…Overture to have?”

“It needs to be small, light, and able to pack a powerful punch.” Nico demonstrated a punch enthusiastically. “And, like, some electrical powers and shit. Yeah.”

Alex looked back over Nico’s sketches. On top of those orders, it needed to be able to handle a grapple function too. 

“Tall order. These things won’t be able to last long.”

Nico nodded. “I’m asking a lot of the material.”

“When do you need this?”

“So, um…could you have it to me in a week?”

“I can do it in ten days.”

Her face screwed up. “It’ll have to do.”

—

“So I ain’t even showed this bad bitch to Nero yet! Ain’t it cool??”

Alex admired Nico’s handiwork. “Damn, girl.”

“I know, right?? A masterpiece!!”

“Doing your granny proud.”

Nico beamed at the compliment. “Besides, you gave me some good shit to work with. Thanks for all the help.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Alex replied with a sardonic smile, “I’ve been keeping tabs on how much this costs.”

“Whaaaat? Saving the world isn’t enough payment?!”

“Not when my stock is gone.”

She hummed her agreement and then got really quiet. Dante almost asked if she was still on the line.

"He's gonna beat himself up about this for a long time."

"Ehhhhhh," he retorted eventually. "Look, it's not like he meant to lose it. But Yamato is a slippery little bastard just like its previous owner. It's kinda part of the job."

Yeah, so totally losing a limb is just an occupational hazard to you?

Quite frankly, she was hoping Dante would have a little stronger reaction to the situation.

You're just an asshole who doesn't care about anyone, aren't you? is what she wanted to say, but she knew it wasn't true. So she didn't act on it, something she did often, and something that had always pissed Dante off.

"Just say it! Just say what's on your goddamn mind!"

But again…it profited her nothing.

"It's what we didn't sign up for," she replied finally. "But that's just part of it. I'll get him to call when he's feeling up to it."

"Roger that—"

The line went dead. Alex knew that sound all too well.

Dante hadn't paid his bills…again.

—

"Morrison…you've gotta let me go."

"No can do, honey child. Client's specifically asked for Dante and Co."

Alex sighed deeply on the other line; it seemed like it was all she could do lately. "This shit's so obviously a trap."

"It probably is. Look, Alex, I know you've got the goods—you've gotten me out of some real tough shit. And I know you've got some pretty strong ties with the gang. But they got it."

Another deep sigh. If Morrison was really honest with himself, Alex's obvious distress left him feeling a little spooked. She had never acted like this before.

"Besides, your alchemy skills and freaky magic tricks might come in handy. How 'bout this? If shit goes awry, you'll be the first one I call."

She breathed in slowly and released it with a hiss. "I guess it'll have to do."

—

Alex had been carefully watching the news of the events of Redgrave City, and it was really only the start of the thing.

Demonic activity quadrupled everywhere.

She had barely slept since everyone had left a few days ago, and only restlessly at that.

This time, she woke herself up screaming. The pain that ripped through her and the torrent of emotion that followed left her insensible for a few long moments, and she knew deep in her bones that something far worse had occurred than what had happened to Nero.

Her phone buzzed on her dresser. She answered on the second ring. Morrison.

"…Shit's gone awry."

"On it."

Her clothes and utilities were right at hand, and she forced herself to calm down and visualize the wreckage of Redgrave City, the tendrils that retained the shapes of their former human bodies, and the peculiar roots that pierced the sky…

Alex plunged into the ether and emerged at the entrance of Redgrave City. Blood rushed from her nose, and judging by the pain in her eye, some blood vessels must have burst there too. It had been far to travel, and the thinness of the veil between the two worlds made it unstable and dangerous.

The city was barricaded—military personnel in riot gear milled about like ants. No one had time to warn them she was coming.

She had to dodge a rain of their machine gun fire. With a curl of her lip, she dissolved into a shadow and melded into the asphalt beneath their feet. Alex ignored their fearful and indignant shouting at her.

With that, she journeyed into the city.

—

It filled her with trepidation that the presence of her friends felt so faint; there were thousands of auras and essences here, so it could have just been the mere pollution…

That, and the one presence coming from that damn tree weighed on her.

She was trying not to let the sheer information overload overwhelm her before she sensed Nero's presence, fluttering and feeble, alongside another one she couldn't exactly place; Morrison was close too.

Alex appeared in Morrison's shadow (poor guy nearly came out of his skin) and reformed just as the other two were dragging up. Nero skidded to a halt right in front of her.

His ass looked pretty beat up, and given his previous stunt (yes, Kyrie had called her crying about his disappearance), he absolutely deserved it.

"Alex!" Nero took a visible step back as the color of her eyes began to change. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm the backup," even the pitch of her voice was beginning to change; Nero knew she was close to triggering on him.

She flicked her eyes to the stranger. "I'm guessing you're the other stranger seen in Fortuna recently?"

"I am," the stranger said calmly. "I'm sorry if I caused anyone else any distress." He summoned up a large, brilliant blue bird whose feathers ruffled dramatically upon sight of her.

"Be careful with this one, V! She's a jinn."

The stranger, now known as V, appraised her carefully. "I wouldn't go that way if I were you."

Alex didn't even deign him with a reply. She looked at Morrison. "Don't wait up."

"You don't have to tell me twice!"

And she became a shadow once again.

—

If she could just find Dante…

The closer she got to this accursed tree, the more she could feel her friends struggling. Her teeth ached, her skin crawled, and she could hardly breathe—just what was this power?

Two waves of energy that shot through her with a white hot pain dimmed Lady's and Trish's presence—their auras flickered and disappeared. When Alex finally remembered to breathe again, she surged forward as fast as she could; she would've been an imperceptible glimmer to an untrained eye.

This wasn't good; she needed to get to them.

She nearly slammed into the crumbled ruins of the entrance to the throne room. Now she knew why the other two had left—they had barely escaped being trapped with that creature inside.

Alex's head rang with the sound of the battle; Dante faced this entity alone. In one insane surge of power, and a sound that cracked the air like thunder, Dante's presence was silenced.

The tree shuddered, twisted, and morphed; and the whole thing groaned beneath her feet. She watched in horror as the walls contracted and revealed the scene inside: an impossibly large demon slouched on a throne of roots and thorns, and tentacle-like roots flinging away Dante's dead body.

The demon's lifeless eyes settled on her, and Alex knew she had made a grave mistake.

"A jinn? You could be useful."

There was only one other time she had ever been so afraid, and as she escaped for her life—eluding the very tree itself—there was only one thought she could cling to:

She had to find him.

Alex Priestly awoke in a cold sweat on the morning of May the 15th. 

Her weather app informed her that, despite being only 7 AM, it was already a balmy 78 degrees with 100% humidity. It was like being in a rice cooker.

Despite the humid morning, the chill lingered. Fear and restlessness had plagued her dreams the night before—a heady explosion of color and pain. The particulars of said dreams had already faded, but the imprint of them left her feeling uneasy.

Her dreams hadn’t been like this since…

Her phone rang loudly in her hand, and she nearly came out of her skin. Nico’s name appeared on the screen, and Alex could feel it deep in her bones that it wasn’t good. She answered on the second ring.

“Heeeeeeey, Alex….so, uh, we got a situation here.” Her voice was uncharacteristically full of worry. “Nero’s been attacked…and the doctors can’t get the bleeding to stop.”

Damn her intuition. “You’re at the infirmary in Fortuna, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

Nico hung up, and Alex scrambled into a bra and pants. She strapped on her utility belt and holstered her weapons. 

She sat on the edge of her bed, crossed her legs, and closed her eyes. In her mind’s eye, she imagined the strangely antique exterior of the hospital, the small rooms left over from the knightly priesthood that had once inhabited its walls, and the strange tang of sterility and death…

The delicate blood vessels in her nose burst, and she could feel the familiar drop of her belly button into the ether. 

When she opened her eyes, she was face-to-face with Nico. Her normally bright face was covered in a pallor…and blood, lots of it. 

“You got, uh…a little something there.” Nico wiped under her nose, and Alex mimicked the motion. “He’s on the third fl—”

Even from the ground floor, the sound of Nero’s nearly feral screaming raised the hairs on the back of Alex’s neck, and she was a mere blur as she ascended the stairs and rushed into the emergency room floor. 

Alex was already summoning things from deep within her pouches when she arrived at the scene—several bloodied doctors and nurses were attempting to keep Nero still, and he was writhing under them in pain. His right arm…a bandaged stump. What in the hell could have completely removed Devil Bringer this way?

She pushed the thought from her mind as she placed the whole area in a state of suspended animation; she caught a doctor in slow-motion as Nero bucked him off and carefully pushed him out of the bubble. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it from here.”

—

A couple of hours and a dizzying combination of elixirs and incantations later, Alex finally sealed his wound closed. 

She placed him under a sleeping spell and slumped into the chair that had been pushed into the far corner. 

Despite the fact she looked so tired herself, Kyrie wordlessly brought Alex a bottle of water. The girl was an angel from heaven. 

“Thanks, Kyrie.”

“No, thank you.” 

Alex shrugged off Kyrie’s thanks with a small smile. “Why don’t you go get some rest, both of you? I’ll keep watch for now.”

For once, Kyrie didn’t argue with her.

She took a slug of her water and glanced over at her sleeping charge. It almost hurt looking at him sometimes. 

By her calculations, Nero was about the same age Dante was when they had first met, and Nero looked just as peaceful in his sleep. No furrowed brow, no devilish smirk. You could actually take the time to appreciate how beautiful he was.

She chugged the rest of her water and tried her best to put Dante from her mind. With all the shit that had gone down in her life, and the demonic weirdness and trials and tribulations, Dante had been the one thing that tripped her up every time.

Alex shook her head at her own thoughts. She liked to think she had moved on from the whole affair, and for the most part she had made her peace with it, but there were still times—over fifteen years later—that it bothered her so deeply that she had to teleport herself into the middle of the Sahara and bake for a few hours to get the fuck over herself.

This was one of those times, but she had this particular Spawn of Sparda to watch over and was pretty exhausted from teleporting the first time…not to mention all the demonic energies she had expended just to stabilize him. She had to sit it out and cope with it like a normal human being.  

After the scene had been reasonably cleaned up, the head doctor returned. Like she had expected, he looked absolutely exhausted. She felt his vaguely haunted expression deep in her bones. 

“Is he doing better?”

“Yes, he’s stable.”

The doctor shook his head. “That would’ve killed a normal person. But things haven’t been normal around here in a long time.”

Alex hummed in agreement.

He looked a little sheepish. “I didn’t agree with Miss Kyrie at first—about bringing you in—but it was the right call. I’m not sure we would’ve been able to get him still long enough to even put him under.”

“Yes,” she replied dryly. “I know Fortuna’s policies on strangers. Despite the fact that I’ve been making unusual medicines for Fortuna’s unusual illnesses for a while now.”

The doctor smiled even more sheepishly.

“Come back in a few hours,” Alex said finally. “I’ll wake him up then.”

The doctor agreed to return, and Alex made herself as comfortable as she could in the stiff hospital chair. As she stared at Nero’s pale face and the stump of his arm, she could feel dread settling deep into the pit of her stomach. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret Nero had Yamato, but it wasn’t common knowledge either. And the creature who inflicted this injury to Nero—it was such a clean, precise cut that no normal demon could have done it. Then who could have done it?

There was only one person she could talk to about this. Alex absolutely dreaded it. 

She texted Trish: Hey, what’s the number to the office again?

dmc office?

Yeah.

Is everything okay?

I’m fine. Nero’s been hurt pretty bad but situation’s under control. Need to talk to Dante.

Just tried calling myself. No pick up. Is Nero okay?

He’s stable. I’ll get him to tell me what happened once he wakes up. 

Trish shared a contact; it read slob. Alex smiled at that. 

Gonna assume he’s out on a job rn. Try him again after the kid wakes up. Keep me updated.

Will do. Thanks.

—

Kyrie’s head popped around the corner, and she gently rapped on the door. “Is it all right to come in?”

“Of course.”

She made a bee line for Nero’s bedside and gently stroked his face. Her eyes filled with tears; she looked at him with such an intense look of fear, relief, and love that Alex almost couldn’t bear to look at her.

“Alex, be honest…is he…is he really going to be okay?”

She nodded slowly. “He is missing his Devil Bringer…but I don’t see this keeping him down for long.”

“No, it won’t.” Kyrie smiled with equal parts fondness and exasperation. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Take over watch. I’m gonna go to your place and check things out. Is there anything you can tell me about what happened?”

Kyrie shook her head sadly. “Nico and I were both inside, but Nero was in the garage when it happened.”

Alex’s mood grew even more somber—this demon had waited for Nero to be alone. “Tell Nico and the kids to stay at the hospital ’til I get back.”

“I will.”

Alex chugged a small vial of devil star extract and teleported to Nero’s home.

— 

The smell of blood overwhelmed her senses as she reformed in the garage; she could feel her demonic side shift and strain under her skin in defensive fury. Her baser instincts were struggling to take hold—the pack mentality was hard to break, especially when she identified Nero as her own, too. 

Alex forced herself to keep her demonic side at bay and concentrate.

The residual energy of the demon who took Nero’s arm lingered minutely and was familiar enough that Alex could almost place it.

For the safety of Kyrie, Nico, and the kids, Alex rigged up a slew of hexes and surveyed the periphery of their house along with the surrounding buildings. Nothing else seemed out of place, and she could only detect the faint demonic presence just at the garage. Hm, so this being must have teleported in, too.

She scrutinized the inside of the garage itself. Judging by the state of the room and the location of the blood, there was no struggle—this had come as such a surprise that Nero had had no time to defend himself.

This attack had been lightning quick, with a cut so precise and pristine, that there was truly no denying that this was no mere demon.

She really needed to hear Nero’s side of the story when he woke up.

—

Nico jumped as Alex materialized like a plume of smoke in the seat across from her. 

“Shit, Alex, you can’t do me like that—I’ve already had too much damn excitement today!”

“Sorry,” she replied sheepishly. “You and the kids can go back home, I think.”

“Ya think??” She didn’t sound super convinced.

“I’ve rigged up some nasty hexes if that makes you feel any better.”

Nico sat and thought about it for a few seconds. “I would kill for a hot shower right now. But ya know Kyrie’ll wanna stay.”

“I know.”

“But I guess I’ll go ahead and take the brats home if you think it’s safe. They’re with Kyrie right now.”

Alex nodded. “I need to wake Nero up anyway. I’ll go with you.”

“You lead the way. Your damn legs are eighty miles long.”

Alex rolled her eyes and did as Nico requested. She found Kyrie and the kids piled up in chairs surrounding Nero’s bedside, and she was tackled with sweet hugs. She had regularly been visiting the kids (and passing Nero jobs) to help out in any way she could; Alex had also spent the early part of her life in an orphanage.

After she peeled herself away from Kyle, Carlo, and Julio, she gently squeezed Kyrie’s shoulder. “It’s all clear. Nico can take the kids home.”

Kyrie sighed deeply in relief. “That’s good. Nico, do you mind?”

Nico waved a nonchalant hand. “Naw, I don’t mind. C’mon, ya brats, let’s give ‘em some space!”

After some gentle coaxing from Kyrie and not-so-gentle dragging by Nico, the kids finally left. 

Once they were out of sight, Alex carefully sprinkled some more healing elixir onto some clean bandages and rewrapped Nero’s wound. She summoned up some more of her devil star extract—something to revitalize him and ease the pain—and pressed the vial to his lips and gently tilted his head back.

Alex gently pressed her thumb between Nero’s eyebrows; a seal appeared on his forehead and dissolved into dust. His eyes fluttered open and his brow furrowed.

“Alex?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Are Kyrie and Nico okay?”

Alex motioned behind her. “Kyrie’s right here.”

She moved and allowed Kyrie to sit beside him; the poor thing was on the cusp of tears again.

“Hey,” he gently shushed her, “I’m fine now. No big deal.”

As Kyrie wrapped him into a big hug and buried her head in his chest, he looked at Alex. She could see it—the war of anger, helplessness, and disquiet playing out on his face. She knew it all too well. But no big deal; she always said that too.

“I’m sorry, Kyrie, but can I speak to Nero alone?”

Kyrie wiped the years from her eyes and nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry. You can.”

She reluctantly let go of Nero and left the room. 

When she was out of earshot, Nero spoke up. “…Thanks, by the way.”

Alex sat beside him on the bed and pressed a hand to his face, almost like a mother would, and he leaned a little into her touch. Since they had met, there had always been an unspoken understanding between them. What would she have done if her feisty friend had died? She would’ve—

She pushed the thought from her mind. “I’m just glad I got here in time…it was pretty bad, Nero.”

He stared at the stump of his arm. “I know.”

“I need you to tell me everything that happened.”

“There’s not much to tell,” he sighed deeply after a long moment, “Nico and I were giving the van a quick tune-up…she stepped away…and this hooded guy showed up. He looked like he had been through some shit. When I asked him what he wanted, he just came at me like a blur.” 

“There’s only one guy I know who’s that fast—Dante—and I think this bastard could’ve been even faster. One second my arm’s there, and the next…it’s not. I didn’t even feel it until I saw all the blood.”

“And this person took nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

Alex tried to remain as neutral as she could, but she could feel her worry tugging at the corners of her mouth and brow. 

“What the hell would some asshole want with my arm?”

“Yamato.”

The realization dawned on his face, and he looked like he was about to be sick. “Dante trusted me with that sword.”

He was reeling, and Alex grabbed him by the shoulders. “Nero, Nero—look at me. This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah…you’re right,” he said finally, but he didn’t seem very convinced. “We’re gonna have to tell Dante, aren’t we?”

“I’m gonna give him a call.” She didn’t miss the look he gave her. “Because you need to rest.”

“But—”

“I’ll sic Kyrie on you.”

He hissed through his teeth but smiled. “Yeah…you got me there.”

Alex pulled some more vials from her utility belt and placed them on the table beside his bed. “These are for you. They’re labeled.” 

She rested a hand on his arm. “And please don’t do anything stupid.”

He smirked. “Whatever gave you the impression I’d do something like that?”

A dark brow rose. “Because I know that look in your eye.”

She could tell the ‘what, don’t think I can handle myself now?’ line was just on the tip of his tongue, but the grip she had on his arm was growing incrementally tighter. This wasn’t a time for sass.

“No promises,” he retorted carefully.

He received a sardonic smile, and she relinquished her alarmingly vice-like grip on him. “I didn’t expect any. Don’t hesitate to call if you need more of this.”

“Heading home?”

“Pretty soon. I don’t think the doctors’ll keep you here much longer anyway.”

“Seriously…thanks again.”

“I never mind helping you out.” Her expression was somber, as usual, but her eyes were warm. “I’ll go grab Kyrie.”

But by the time Kyrie returned five minutes later, Nero was gone.