So here's the deal: Holiday. Themed. Shorts. Why not? You'll definitely enjoy them if you like DxL, but they won't all be focused on the romance, so hopefully everyone will enjoy.

Haven't figured out if there's going to be any connection between the shorts yet, but I guess that won't matter until we get another one written in. Meanwhile, this would take place within the first year that Dante and Lady start working together. Whatever and whenever that means to you.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Edit, 1/23/09: Made a few changes to fit with my Plan. If you read it before this date, please reread it.

In addition, I came up with a basic calendar regarding the year of the games—it's not perfect, mainly because I feel odd imagining DMC3 happening in the 90's (oh my childhood!), but the exact year isn't as important as when each of these stories takes place. Believe me, it'll be important to know what comes first as the chapters progress.

Observance

Christmas

December 25th, 2000

"I don't even celebrate Christmas," Lady said, readjusting Kalina Ann on her shoulder, a habit that Dante had very quickly associated with Lady being annoyed but not full-out angry, "and I still think that Christmas is an awful day to have to hunt demons."

"Why?" Dante asked, walking alongside her into the empty barn, sidestepping a trail of blood. Cow's blood, according to the farmer. The demon—which he had helpfully described as "this big red thing," and Dante guessed was that he wasn't referring to Santa Claus—had gotten a hold of one of his cows before disappearing into the barn to eat it amongst the farming equipment, now useless when there was snow on the ground.

"Because I like having my holidays off, except for two," she said. "And that's my birthday and Valentine's Day."

Dante chuckled. "I can see why you'd like hunting demons on your birthday. But ... Valentine's Day? Why would you want to work when you could, you know, be doing other things?"

In his peripheral vision, Lady visibly tensed. "Because," she started, and there was an ungainly pause in the middle of her thought as she tried to come up with a plausible answer, "I love my job."

"Okay," he remarked, and didn't push it. She seemed to enjoy not answering questions fully and completely, leaving information out so that he wouldn't know as much about her as he wanted to know. Some things she would tell him—basic information about herself, her life. But whatever seemed to matter, things that were more open to interpretation and would allow him a greater insight into the way she thought, she would automatically cover up with a general comment or a stupid joke. He wasn't necessarily frustrated by it, because he more often than not did the same thing, which despite all logic actually made them get along fairly well. They were both strong personalities, hers oddly more aggressive than his, which was definitely a lazy one, and they seemed to be doing fairly well so far in their partnership—so let her keep her secrets. He didn't mind.

"That wasn't my question, though," he continued, glancing over at her.

Lady frowned and looked up at him, and he at her, and for the first time since the conversation had started, they were actually looking at each other. "Yes, it was," she slowly responded.

"No, earlier," Dante corrected. "I meant about not celebrating Christmas. You just not Christian or something?"

"Oh." Lady looked forward again. "No—I mean, yes, I'm theoretically Christian, but now I'd say I'm more of an agnostic raised Christian." She shook her head. "I stopped going to Church a long time ago." She frowned, glancing at him in confusion. "Actually, I've always wondered ... what about you? Do you practice anything?"

Dante snorted. "Oh fuck no," he answered. "I can't imagine being religious in any way knowing the things I know. Especially not with my Dad around. Religion and demons don't really mix."

Lady nodded. "So you're atheist?"

"I don't believe in anything that I don't know is true," Dante said. Likewise, he didn't believe in anything that didn't believe that other things were true, like how nothing seemed to acknowledge who he was. Religion didn't understand demons, much less demons like his father, and even less demons like him. It was just another thing that being the Son of Sparda seemed to entail.

"But you celebrated Christmas?"

"Mom insisted. Dad thought it was cute. Vergil and I just liked getting presents." Dante paused, wondering why he was sharing so much with her so freely. "Anyway, I stopped celebrating Christmas when I stopped having a reason to celebrate."

"Yeah," Lady admitted. "Same."

She stopped in her tracks, and Dante continued for a few more steps, listening to his footsteps crunch against the frozen ground before stopping as well. The air was thick and the temperature had suddenly dropped—it was going to snow soon. White Christmas. He had never seen the appeal. Or, at least, he hadn't in a long time.

Christmas was supposed to be a time of caring, generosity, and togetherness, his mother had taught him. It was all about spending time with the people you loved and showing how much they care about each other. The mere act of giving a present was supposed to be a selfless expression of thanks, because weren't supposed to expect anyone to give you something in return. Or so his mother had told him and Vergil, but they had been too young to really appreciate it, and instead tearing at the colored wrapping paper as their parents watched with affection.

Then he had been left alone, and there had been nobody to celebrate Christmas with. He did his service to the world by doing jobs on Christmas for free, figuring that it was the least he could do. It was once a year—no big deal. Lady had been surprised to hear that this job was, in fact, a free one, but had smiled regardless, apparently stunned by his generosity. Well, he was pretty generous when he wanted to be. His mother had taught him well.

Christmas had been such a lonely time of year for him after his mother's death and Vergil's disappearance, and he had stopped noticing how depressing of a holiday it was for him—at least until Lady had woken him up this morning, having fallen asleep on the couch the night before. She seemed to have gotten the point about how to wake him up, something that his mother, on Christmas, had never conceded to. She would start by gently prodding him awake, at which point she would realize that Dante slept like a rock and it would be more beneficial to wake up Vergil first, since the older twin wasn't as afraid of jumping on his brother to wake him up. Seeing her shake him awake, leaning above him, hair tousled from sleep on the couch, had reminded him of what the holiday had used to be like. Of how it used to be special. Of how it used to be something that he shared with people, rather than something that was spent alone.

So maybe she hadn't been dragging him downstairs to eat breakfast and open presents, and then watch cartoons for hours while drinking eggnog, not because they particularly enjoyed eggnog, but because that was what you did on Christmas. Lady had actually been waking him up to go on this job, having answered Enzo's early morning call downstairs. There had been something so exhilarating about them going out into the crisp winter air and riding their motorcycles out of the city, into the cloudy gray skies of the rural outskirts to kill a big red not-Santa demon and not get paid to do it, hunting simply out of the kindness of their hearts and maybe just a bit for the thrill of the hunt. Together they could have their own traditions, doing things in unconventional ways simply due to circumstance.

"Lady," Dante said, fishing into his pocket and retrieving a small box with a bow on it. He tossed it behind him, and heard her fumble to catch it. "Merry Christmas."

"I didn't get you anything," Lady responded after a pause. "I didn't know—"

"It's fine. Open it." Dante walked forward again in search of the big red thing that was terrorizing the cows.

Again, there was another pause as Lady opened the box. Dante, trying not to look at her, looked at the dark green tractor next to him instead, searching for a flash of red.

"A cord chain?" she finally asked, and he turned to look at her. She was holding it between her thumb and index finger, staring at him curiously.

"You mentioned that the one you use is fraying," he explained, barely resisting the urge to shove his hands into his pockets. "Figured you'd need a new one before it breaks and you lose the necklace."

Lady looked back at the cord in her hands, rolling it between her two digits, and then, smiling, put it back in its box and into one of the pockets of her skirt. She looked back at Dante, arms hanging awkwardly by her sides as if she were figuring out what to do with them. She took a tentative step forward, then another, then stopped. "Thank you," she said, a sincere smile gracing her face.

"Don't mention it," Dante responded sincerely. "I didn't want you to lose that necklace."

"No, it's perfect," she said. "It's funny, I had even forgotten that I needed to get that, but you remembered anyway." Perhaps in an attempt to fill the eerie, pre-snow silence, she joked: "If you were fatter and had a beard, I'd say that you looked like Santa Claus."

"Yeah, because I have white hair and wear red. Funny. I've never heard that one," he deadpanned.

"I'm just saying," she explained, almost apologetically.

To be honest, he wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next. Seeing as they were on a job, officially, it probably involved killing their Santa-demon and getting home rather than standing around like idiots in a frozen barn. He wasn't sure what they would do afterwards. She might go back to her apartment and he back to the shop, and they would each spend their Christmas alone, mourning the loss of their loved ones and wondering if there was anything they could do to make Christmas Christmassy again. Or they might hang out together, watch Christmas specials on TV, laugh and joke—and buy some eggnog and spike it, just because they had never been able to do that as children.

They would celebrate Christmas again, for the first time in—well, for him, it had been about fifteen years. It was probably a bit less for her, maybe ten or so, but to the same effect. The holiday season didn't have to be something to dread, and the idea of being the Son of Sparda wasn't as daunting.

"Okay," he finally said, pointing behind him with his thumb. "Let's go kill that demon."

Lady sighed in exasperation and slapped her hands against her thighs. "Get over here now so I can hug you before I change my mind."

Dante blinked. "Wait—what?"

"Now."

"Yes ma'am," he said, quickly stepping forward to meet her. He raised his arms uncomfortably, wrapping them around her smaller frame as if it would burn to touch her. He nearly started when her thin arms suddenly wrapped around his chest, clutching him almost in an almost desperate thank you. He eventually relaxed and drew her closer, the hairs on her head tickling his nose.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Lady asked, cheek pressed against his jacket. Surprisingly, she didn't try to move.

"Don't worry about it," he answered, shutting his eyes because he knew that she wouldn't notice.

"But—"

"It's fine."

Outside, it started to snow.