Dante did enjoy a free day every now and then.

That might have been surprising to some people – even those who knew him – but Dante did, actually, honestly, enjoy a free day. Especially after too many tedious missions at once. Or a whole save-the-world-gig. He found that after those, even he had enough of kicking-demon-butts for a while.

(And of holes in his clothes. Or his body. Honestly, just, holes in general.)

So when there actually was someone ringing the bell at his door the one day he had decided to take off, he was all kinds of things, but pleased was not one of them.

He shifted the magazine laying upturned over his face just enough to send a one-eyed, offended look towards the door. Nope, no way in hell was he going to open it. If he just let them try without success, hopefully, they would scram soon enough. Having just unplugged his phone, there wasn't even a way they could ring through.

He waited another beat, but the doorbell didn't sound again. Satisfied, Dante shifted just enough to get his propped-up feet in a more comfortable position, before closing his eyes again. Finally, some peace and quiet.

Then there was a sort of thumping sound coming from the door. He did let himself be goaded by it to glance over again. That was never knocking or ringing or anything else he was familiar with.

He did, however, recognize the hoarsely grumbled swear that followed, no matter how muffled it was through the door.

Oh. Alright, then.

With a snort, Dante pushed himself upright, shaking off the magazine and dropping it back onto the desk without so much as looking.

"Did you lose your key or… huh." he stopped mid-sentence once he got the door open, taking in the unusual sight that presented itself.

Not that Morrison was an unusual sight, no really, the opposite. But Morrison, carrying two boxes that looked heavy plus balancing an assortment of metal and plastic pieces on top of it, now that was something he didn't see often. Never, to be exact.

"Oh, good," Morrison greeted him, angling around from where he had apparently had tried to find his key and open the door without putting anything down. "Take the stuff on top for a second, will you? Else I drop everything on your doorstep."

Without much thinking, Dante obliged, helping the other out – and was left standing there with his arms full as Morrison brushed past him into the room with a muttered thanks and a relieved sigh.

Dumbfounded, Dante blinked down at the assortment of things in his arms, recognizing it to be kitchenware, of all things.

"What the heck do you need so many bowls for?"

"You are going to need them," Morrison informed him – rather unhelpfully, Dante found. Having shook of coat, hat and wet boots, the older man shrugged his shoulders, gesturing, until Dante put the bowls back on top of the boxes the other was still carrying.

With a grunt, Morrison fumbled for a moment before he found his balance again, making his way towards the kitchen. "Don't mind me, I know where to put this."

"What do I need them for?" Dante followed after Morrison, not knowing what else to do. But the other had the gall to simply snort and shoo him away before vanishing into the kitchen, leaving him standing rather dumbly in the middle of his own shop, without any clue what was going on.

Really now, this got to be some sort of joke on his expense.

Grumbling, Dante only now noticed the source of the cold air suddenly finding its way into the shop. "Oi, don't just leave other people's doors open!"

"Ain't gonna close the door in front of Patty's nose!"

And as if on commando, a blur of blonde hair and pink cheeks came basically flying through the door. Only practice and inhuman reflexes made Dante catch her before she ran him over.

"Hey!" Patty greeted him where she had basically tackled him, laughing into his grumpy face. "You were taking a nap, weren't you? You're so cranky when you get woken up from your naps."

"Patty. What did I tell you about jumping at me?"

"Oh, puh-lease, as if you're not gonna catch me", she rolled her eyes at him – that was very familiar – and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before dancing out of his reach – that was absolutely not familiar.

When exactly had she grown so tall that she could do that without having to be lifted up?

The door slammed with a well-aimed kick, before Patty asked all too innocently, "Morrison is here already?"

Drawn from his musings about kids and growing up too quickly, Dante gestured over his shoulder towards the kitchen, grunting an affirmative out.

"Neat!" Innocence gone in a blink, Patty's face was all mischievous joy while she started unwrapping her scarf, throwing it haphazardly over the nearest chair before starting on her jacket. "Means I don't have to worry about the kitchen."

"Why are you guys worrying about my kitchen all of sudden?" Dante couldn't help but snort at the thought. He didn't even use that kitchen all too often. That's what food delivery had been invented for.

"It's not only the kitchen, believe me," the long-suffering look she gave him made him grin. Some things never changed. "Anyway, do you have any decorations or stuff?"

That wiped the grin straight of his face again. "Any what?"

"Decorations," Patty repeated, slow and accentuated, then groaned when she caught sight of his blank expression, waving it off impatiently. "Never mind, you're a lost cause. I'm going to look upstairs if I find something."

"Why do you even need… Patty."

But she was already gone, bounding up the stairs taking two steps at once. Halfway up, she stopped to lean over the railing and called out, "Morrison, if I don't find any decorations, can you tell the others?"

"Got'cha, Patty."

"You're the best, thanks!"

"Wait," having a bad feeling about this, Dante frowned, calling after Patty's retreating back. "Who do you mean with others, Patty?!"

"It's gonna get a bit crowded," was all she answered before he heard doors slam, falling victims to the human-shaped whirlwind.

Crowded?!

Dante was just about to ask again when a soft knock reached his sharp ears, almost timid in its nature.

Even vary as he was, he couldn't help the smile ticking the corner of his lips upwards. There was only one of his many associates who even had the patience to knock at his door.

Two quick strides and he was across the room, opening the door – again - with a mock-bow to top things off. "Ma'am?"

"Hello, Dante." Kyrie laughed at him, always amused by his antics (and absolutely not the reason why he got even sillier with her around, if anyone asked). There was a beanie pulled over her red locks and a scarf wrapped nearly up to the tip of her nose, but her cheeks were still kissed pink by the cold. She didn't seem to mind, near glowing with joy as always.

She didn't hesitate to duck over the doorstep and stand on her tiptoes to give him a hug. Dante let her, wrapping one arm around her waist to squeeze back quickly, warmly, before allowing her step away. "Hey there, kiddo. How you doing?"

"Wonderful, to be honest," there was mischief twinkling in her eyes as she looked him up and down before casting a quick glance around the shop. "A bit sorry for ambushing you like this, perhaps?"

Dante had been about to give back a quip or something of the sorts, but her comment made suspicion rise. "Kyrie, you wouldn't happen to know why everybody is frequenting my shop today, would you."

The way she smiled while biting her bottom lip was telling all on its own. "Maybe?"

That was it. Dante threw up his hands, turning towards the kitchen to make sure that all of his (uninvited) guests could hear him as he called, "Seriously, guys, did I miss a birthday or something?!"

"Told you he missed it!" Morrison's grumble was even audible over the clacking of him unpacking whatever he had had in those boxes.

Quick steps could be heard from above, before Patty all but threw herself over the railing of the stairs, eyes wide. "Dante! Do you ever check your calendar?!"

"Which calendar?" He retorted, stubbornly, because this was absolutely not his fault this time. Even though he was already wracking his brain to find out what he could have missed there.

"I gifted you one, you big dummy!"

"Was that the thing you threw at my head when-…"

"It's Christmas Eve, old man."

The deep voice cut easily through the beginning of a full-blown argument – as did his and Patty's conversation turn so often into – and Dante blinked, perplexed, before his head turned around slowly to the newcomer.

Nero ambled through the open door, one arm loaded with shopping bags, amusement and surprise warring on his face. "You really didn't know?"

Still perplexed, Dante found it unusually difficult to string a sentence together. The comment that was meant to be funny sounded more like a question even to his own ears. "Could have sworn we had Christmas Eve last year?"

Nero's eyebrow rose higher up, amusement making way for something else, and Dante caught him exchanging a quick glance with Kyrie, who looked more worried than anything else by now.

Oh, but damn the kid, he shouldn't know him so well by now. Shouldn't have been able to tell when he had been caught wrong-footed, or was actually shaken about something.

(When had those people become so attuned to him, that they could pinpoint his moods when he wasn't sure what to feel, himself?)

A tiny weight cannonballed into Dante's legs right that moment, saving him from whatever question that was about to come. Blinking down, he recognized a wild mop of tousled, long brown hair, before a face with big green eyes blinked up, a smile as bright as the sun directed at him. "Uncle Dante!"

Even feeling blindsided as he still was, Dante grinned brightly back, swooping down to lift the little girl up onto his hip. "Well, well, what's that, princess - did you grow again? You stop that, you hear?"

Elisa giggled, flushing happily, and contented herself with tugging shyly at strands of the silvery hair that had always fascinated her so much.

"Nero, where should we put this stuff?" Angelo pushed past Nero into the shop, indicating to yet another, much smaller and lighter, shopping bag that he was carrying. "Uh, hey, Uncle Dante."

"Dante?" Nero's question was uncharacteristically soft, and Dante knew that this wasn't going to be a question about where to put groceries, not really.

He opted to pretend it was, though, jamming the thumb of his free hand over his shoulder. "Back there. Just ask Morrison where to put… whatever you have there."

Another quick exchange of glances between Nero and Kyrie – he would have to tell them to stop doing that – before Nero laid his free hand on Angelo's back, gently steering him forward. "Com' on."

"Hey, Elisa, you want to help me look for something to decorate with?" Patty asked right this instant, clearly having the same thought as Nero.

Immediately, the little girl beamed, letting go of Dante's hair to squirm in his grip instead. He barely had put her back onto her feet before she raced off, following Patty upstairs.

Behind him, the kitchen door closed, cutting off the sounds of Morrison greeting Angelo and Nero.

It left Dante in the main room, alone with Kyrie.

Kyrie, who, Dante reflected with wry amusement, was most likely the only one in this colorful bunch who really knew how to talk about things. Smart move of them. Unluckily for her, though, he didn't share that ability.

He turned his back towards her as he walked back over to his desk, absentmindedly and without much plan starting to push the things on top of it from one side to the other as if to bring some order into the mess.

There was silence, only interrupted by the rustling of clothes being taken off as Kyrie turned to hang up her winter gear.

Somehow, it was worse that she didn't start talking immediately, and Dante reverted back to joking. "Well, you guys sure know how to surprise someone.

The rustling slowed, than stopping completely. When she next spoke, Kyrie's voice was soft, nearly apologetic. "We really thought you knew what today was."

"Yeah, you just heard it," he gestured over his head towards the upper floors, crooked smile on his face that wouldn't quite stay how he wanted it to. "I'm not the best when it comes to remembering dates."

A half-truth would have to work, he supposed, because he didn't feel like outright lying to her, sweet girl that she was.

(Fact was – he remembered all of the important dates, didn't need something like a calendar or notes, not usually. He simply preferred to ignore anything that wasn't the birthday of a friend.)

"I'm still sorry." Kyrie wasn't so easily distracted, because of course she wasn't. She didn't try to get him to turn him around, but continued talking, "I know none of you ever mentioned celebrating the holidays, but when the children started asking where we should celebrate, all of us, I mean, we started asking around…"

Dante slowed, having reached the photo frame he had been working around so diligently. Gingerly, he touched the frame before focusing on the opposite end of the desk, all while listening with one ear to the young woman behind him.

"We asked Lady and Trish about it. They said you all never really celebrated… well, anything, if we don't count drinking for birthdays," there was a chuckle, badly hidden, behind those words, and Dante felt his lips twitch against his will. "But they also said there seemed nothing against it, so we kind of…"

"Thought it would alright to drop by?"

"Yes.

Dante had finished with the desk top, magazines and guns shoved into the topmost drawer (keeping them away from the children had been the first thing they all had had to learn), a hint of order in his usual messy home.

There was nothing to distract himself with anymore, so his hand traveled back to the photo's frame almost unbidden, turning it around.

Eva smiled back at him as always, a silent joy on her features that he both missed and sometimes could barely stand to see.

(He remembered every important date.

The red shawl she presented here had been a joined Christmas gift from all of them.)

Putting the photo back was a gentle affair, even if part of him wanted to slam it down – he could never bring himself to do it. "I didn't actually think of celebrating today."

"I'm sorry, Dante."

"It's fine, just next-…"

"No, it's not."

How she managed to sound so firm without being forceful, he would never know, but he closed his mouth obediently nonetheless, for once struck speechless.

When he turned, she stood right in front of him, head held high and jaw set, and he couldn't help but think that just perhaps, it was exactly this gentle firmness that made her able to stand their combined daily craziness.

Seeing his perplexed expression, her own features softened, and Kyrie looked almost sad as she shook her head, despite the tiny smile on her face. "It's not fine. We should have asked first, before just showing up on your doorstep and pushing this onto you."

Blowing out a puff of air, he couldn't help but agree. "Some warning wouldn't have been too bad. 'M not too big on surprises."

At that, she nodded, in understanding or agreement, he wasn't sure.

And despite that, her next question still surprised him yet again.

"Should we leave?"

For a moment, the answer seemed easy, right there on the tip of his tongue – yes, please, leave, because he had never planned to celebrate any of this.

But then it slipped right through his grasp, and Dante couldn't help but think of the way everyone had seemed so damned chipper about this, showing up laden with goods they would need, grinning and smirking and laughing at his perplexed reaction. The excitement radiating from them. The beaming smile little Elisa had given him upon seeing him. The ease with which they moved around him, as if they were comfortable here.

Hadn't he enjoyed that, once?

Finally, he settled on a rather lame, "You're already here."

"And we can leave again," Kyrie pointed out immediately. "We will just think of a reason to tell the kids – and the others wouldn't even need to hear a reason, I bet. They would understand."

For a moment, she looked like as if she wanted to reach for him, perhaps hug him in comfort. He was kind of glad she didn't, right then. "Dante, it's your shop, your decision. Say the word, and we leave."

He opened his mouth to answer-

The door to the shop flew open anew, the sounds of heavy boots on wooden floors resounding.

"Yo, can any of you sweethearts probably help me out with getting that tree you ordered off my car, 'cause…"

Nico trailed off as she saw Dante and Kyrie looking at her, both a little aghast. The mechanic blinked, frozen mid-motion, before it clicked. "Oh. I interrupted something, didn't I?"

"Well…"

"Nico! Did you bring the tree?!" The kitchen door banged open and Angelo bounded out, eyes glittering with excitement.

Nero followed after him, apparently ready to pull the boy back to stop him from interrupting – only to realize that had already happened. Sighing, the youngest half-devil stopped in his tracks, scratching his cheek. "Oh, great timing."

"Erm, should I come back, like, later?" Nico offered, even while she crouched down to greet the excited boy. "Yeah, bud, I brought the tree. Biggest one I could find."

"Guys…" Kyrie began, lifting her hands to stop the tumult, her eyes darting quickly over to Dante and away again.

"Great! Nero, can we go get the tree and set it up? Please?"

"Angelo, we…"

"Auntie Nico!" An excited squeal was all the warning they got before Elisa came flying down the stairs and straight into a spluttering Nico's arms.

"Okay, my favorite mini-people are all here, but perhaps we should…"

"Sorry guys, I swear I tried to hold her back," Patty called from above, appearing on the stairs with an apologetic grimace.

"It's fine, it's all cool..."

"Elisa, Nico brought the tree!"

"Really?!"

"Um, guys?"

And everybody started to talk over each other once again.

It was entirely too loud to think in here, and Dante couldn't very well tell all of them to leave so that he could have some much needed quiet – not when he wasn't sure yet if he still wanted them here.

So he chose the next best thing, crossing the room to pick his coat from the racket – a racket that was suddenly very crowded with scarfs and jackets, much more than usually – shrugging it on. "I'm gonna go for a walk. Be right back."

"Dante…"

He wasn't sure who had called for him, but he shot an overly-bright grin over his shoulder, anyway. "No running away, you hear?"

(Asking it, jokingly, even when he was the one doing just that. There was some irony in there, for sure.)

He didn't wait for an answer and brushed past Nico – giving her pat on the shoulder half in greeting, half in goodbye – before ducking out the still open door.

Walking fast enough that, hopefully, nobody would even think about following him right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Be right back, as it turned out, had been a bit too hopeful on his part. Much too hopeful, to be exact.

By the end of his rounds around town, dodging into side streets and alleys to get away from the few streets that were crowded with passersby doing their last shopping before the shops closed for the holidays, Dante wasn't sure how long he had been out. Only that it had been much longer than he had planned for (not that he had really planned much, at all), that streets were near deserted now since people had other places to be, and that it looked like it was going to rain soon.

And wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake. A big fuck you from the heavens itself, now that was what he needed right now.

Not to mention that he still hadn't come to a decision, Dante mused, sourly, watching yet another shop's lights go out when the owner left and locked the door behind them.

No matter how many times he turned it over and over in his head, he couldn't figure out what he wanted to do.

Indecisive.

Not a feeling he was entirely familiar with, being an impulsive guy most of the time, and it was starting to seriously piss him off.

He continued on his way, aimlessly walking just to keep moving. By now, even he was starting to feel the cold, the shirt and open coat only doing so much to help his warmer nature out against the winter's bite.

It shouldn't be that hard, right, he pondered. He preferred a holiday-free life and his quiet shop, it would be easy to turn around and go back to his friends, thank them for the idea, but they would just have to find a different place to celebrate. Without him.

Then again, what exactly was there to say against some nice food, freely offered, in a warm home, with people around that he actually liked? Most people would have called him crazy for walking out on that, he supposed, for even thinking about ditching that.

But most people knew how to celebrate. Especially celebrate Christmas, something meant to be spent with family and loved ones.

When did he last have that?

Well, he did remember the last Christmas he had celebrated… He could feel it like a warm blanket wrapped around him, taste it on the tip of his tongue, hear it as if spoken right into his ear, every time he so much let his mind wander towards it.

The entire house had smelled of cinnamon, sugar and chocolate, nearly proving too much for their sharp senses. Vergil had wrinkled his nose over it sometimes, after the first few days, but Dante hadn't been able to get enough of it, soaking in deep lungful's of air until he got dizzy.

Mum had shooed them out of the living room, insisting that it was necessary to keep them from peeking both at the tree and the presents – especially the presents. Dante had been torn between going outside and play and staying in and probably get bored. It had been Vergil who pointed out that any sneak-peeks at presents and tree were more likely to happen when they stayed inside – the proposal, of course, not made because his twin wasn't exactly looking forward to getting pelted with snowballs by Dante again.

Imagine their surprise when instead of managing to get a peek at what was supposed to be a surprise, they were the first ones to get to see their father come in through the doors of their home, boots still crusted with snow and looking tired yet happy, gesturing at them to keep quiet before making his way to the living room without much sound.

Dante had liked that year's Christmas the most of all for the loud, delighted laughter Mum gave when her husband had surprised her by making it home on time.

Then the memory turned, sharp and sudden and wholly unwanted.

Burning wood and ashes instead of cinnamon, the iron stench of fresh blood instead of sugar and chocolate. There was no laughter that night, only screams and cries, no twin at his side, only loneliness, no father who made it home on time but instead the ever-looping thought of "Where are you, why are you not here, help us-"

And he would never see Mum laugh again…

Enough!

Dante shook his head resolutely, gnashing his teeth until the painful twinge in his jaw chased away the last remnants of that particular dream-turned-nightmare.

He stood, breathing deliberately slow in and out to get control over himself again. Just beneath his skin, heat crawled, crackled, ready to react to his inner turmoil and break free. But it wasn't needed right now, since the only thing he would need defending from was his own mind. The energy wouldn't find an outlet – there was nothing to go against, no demons to distract him, no foes to rip apart, no opponent to rile up with sharp quips.

There was just the empty park he had mindlessly strolled into around him, and the dark of the night falling slowly.

And a rumbling voice cutting through silence and thoughts alike.

"If you plan to be a brooding asshole for longer, then do it someplace else."

Dante jolted, one hand flying instinctively to Rebellion's hilt while the other dropped to his trusted guns, all while he turned in one smooth motion.

Both hands came up empty.

He actually hadn't thought of taking his weapons with him, first safe at home where he didn't need weapons, then, after, too deep in thought to remember grabbing them on the way out.

Great. Beginner's mistake.

His oversight had led to a brief pause that, in any real fight, would have meant him either getting gobbled down or impaled for the thousandth time.

This time, it didn't happen (thankfully; he did like this shirt) and Dante breathed out slowly, measuredly, taking the time to really look who had managed to sneak up on him like that.

The stranger who had addressed him sat on the bench nearest to him as leisurely as he pleased - legs splayed out, one broad arm stretched out over the backrest, jute bag that seemed ready to rip at the seams dropped next to him onto the bench. The cigar dangling from the fingers of his other hand seemed strangely misplaced with the way he was dressed in a Santa Claus-costume (neatly done, right down to a fake beard that seemed much too fluffy to be put on such a chiseled face) as were the broad goldrings glinting on each finger, or the tattoos swirling over his dark skin. For some odd reason, he was still wearing sunglasses despite the sun having vanished behind clouds long ago.

Well, whatever Dante had expected – it certainly wasn't Santa Claus, that was for sure. Even if it was probably the oddest Santa he had ever encountered.

But odd or not, nothing about the guy seemed anything unnatural – his senses didn't pick up anything other than human. Just another guy without a place to celebrate this day, then.

Having noticed Dante's gaze, the stranger waved his hand around, cigar-tip glinting in the dim light. Indicating towards the empty park, most likely. "Was here first, after all. Only brooding allowed here is mine own."

Something about the way the man said it, an unfamiliar drawl and lilt to his every word, made Dante scoff much more angrily than he had intended to, near defensive. "Geez, sorry about that, Father Christmas. I will be out of your hair in a second."

He continued on – ignoring the heat under his skin once again, wrong place and time – fully intending to just chuck this up to some random guy running his mouth. Not his problem, right.

"Just in case ain't anybody told ya yet, kiddo", the voice called out behind him again, something daunting and scathing in it that made Dante's hackle rise immediately, "Heard today's one of the evenings that's perfect to sit in a nice warm home with some nice warm food, getting hammered with friends. Ya really wanna miss out on that one?"

Dante stopped sharply, turning back around as slowly as he could manage. "Says the guy who is sitting out in the cold all alone."

There was still anger pulsing in his veins like fire, the urge to fight-rip-tear until the adrenaline born of indecision and picking at old wounds would ran out, and this stranger was, for some reason he didn't quite understand, really pushing his every button right there.

If the guy noticed that he was being glared daggers at, he didn't show it. A shrug of those broad shoulders, then a flash of snow-white teeth. "I got everythin' I need here."

As if for proof, he let the cigar roll between his fingers, letting it tilt dangerously, but never fall. "Can ya say the same, kiddo?"

Dante opened his mouth to retort -

"Should we leave?"

- and closed it, slowly. Suddenly feeling more tired than angry.

A thoughtful hum turned into rumbling chuckles, accompanied by puffs of smoke. "Thought so. Look, kid, I got my own shit to worry about 'ere-…"

Not tired enough for this, though. Dante rolled his eyes at the other. "Then how about you go take care of that, Santa?"

"… but all I see 'ere is a fucking idiot running in circles like a headless chicken," the other continued. "And that's fucking distracting me from my nice cigar 'ere, so I would say you scamper home an' make yerself a nice quiet evening like we all should be allowed to sometimes. Ya know, instead of breathing away my air."

And Dante, who had been right ready to either blow up at the guy or just turn around and keep walking until he stumbled over a conveniently placed demon's nest that he could use to let off some steam… just fell silent.

Because even though he hadn't mean to pay full attention to the other's speech (he still couldn't stand people who talked more than himself), some tiny detail had actually caught his attention, making his ever-circling thoughts fall into place.

This feeling of being haunted, of not knowing which path to follow… it wasn't simply about wanting to be alone, or to be surrounded by friends this evening.

He wasn't sure if he should be allowed to have this.

What he once had called family, the people he had celebrated every Christmas including the last with, were gone. They weren't here anymore to celebrate anything.

So why was he? Why should he be allowed to have this, when they didn't?

Do I deserve this?

With a mutter that sounded like "Oh fuck's sake", the stranger rapped his knuckles against the wooden bench, hard, the clacking of rings against wood making Dante blink and look up sharply. "Bullshit, kid. Ya wanna know something about deserving? Well, then lemme tell you - the thing about deserving is that it ain't on us to decide what we deserve for ourselves."

With a gesture that seemed to encompass everything around them, the man continued, "Sure, ya can go right ahead and imagine what you think you deserve, but in the end? It's some other jackass who dishes out for you, be it punishment, or reward. Only thing ya can do is fight against it… or take it."

The hand still waving the cigar around stopped, suddenly pointing at Dante as if to impale him with a single finger. "You sure know how to whine about all the bad stuff – but say life actually gives ya somethin' good for once –then what, you gonna be a dick about it and walk away from it? Walk out into the cold to rather chat it up with a random guy out on the street?! Who knows when that chance you ditched is gonna come again!

Nah, don't know about you, kiddo," the man huffed, scratching his bald head so that he almost knocked the hat off, "but if it were, for once, a reward being dished out to me, Hell fucking knows I wouldn't be running from it."

A cold gust of wind cut through the park, bringing the scent of snow with it. The cigar's light flickered and then went out, all the swishing around and cold air too much for it.

The other cursed under his breath, momentarily distracted, and flicked his fingers – the ember started burning anew in a burst, smoke rising from the tip when he took a new drag of it.

"Not to mention," he growled around the end of the cigar, letting out a plume of smoke through his nostrils that reflected the tiny light of the cigar's tip in a way that looked like Hellfire itself, "Not to mention what yer folks would say about seeing ya run away from something good."

The words hit home, as if kicking a door open that had been long-since closed, and Dante remembered-

Mum laughing aloud when father swung her around in a tight hug in greeting. Vergil huffing a tiny laugh when Dante pulled a face over the embarrassing display. The snorts of his twin when Dante shoved an empty carton over his head for the betrayal. The joined laughter of his entire family when Dante picked Mum's and father's present open – half-expecting his father's joined-in effort to have ruined a good present – only to find a book about different types of guns and a tiny model to practice taking it apart and reassembling it with.

"Are you happy, Dante?"

Seamlessly, the memories shifted again – but instead of the nightmare that usually followed, it went on without a hitch –

The way Lady would groan with a grin on her face and roll her eyes to the heavens when he was just too much again. Trish bumping shoulders with him when came back from a battle, smile on her face. Morrison patting his back in passing before they were on their way to the next job. Patty slamming into him for a hug and then instantly berating him for not calling when he came home later than anticipated. The barely there laugh Nero gave when Dante joked about something before reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. The warmth of Kyrie's hugs that she distributed so freely and gladly. The gleam in Nico's eyes when she excitedly told him about her newest invention that he was supposed to try out. V constantly failing to hide his amused smirk over their antics behind the book he was reading right then. The children climbing all over him, asking for more stories.

Dante stood, thunderstruck, as he suddenly wondered why the heck he was out here, in the cold, when…

"Now you got it. Hurry on home, kid, go on," a puff of smoke, a laugh that seemed to come from the deepest depths. "Who knows how long they are still gonna be there?"

But Dante wasn't even listening anymore, he had already turned around and was walking – no, nearly running – in the direction he had come from.

Fervently hoping the whole time that his friends had understood, and actually stayed where they were.

Rodin was left behind alone. He scoffed, finally taking off the offending Santa hat, and waved it after the retreating figure in the distance. "Ain't that just beautiful. No, no need to thank ol' Rodin. Yer welcome, kiddo. Didn't have anything better to do. Really, who taught him those manners? His Dad?"

Snickering to himself as if over a private joke, Rodin took another satisfying drag of his cigar, letting the smoke roll slowly out from between his lips while he leaned his head back. Now talking directly to the heavy clouds above and to whoever might be listening, he grumbled, only slightly pacified,

"Yer lucky I don't like debts, no matter if I owe 'em to dead ones, Eva."

Some Trivia on what I imagined while I wrote this:

* Elisa and Angelo are, as mentioned in the tags, OCs. More importantly, they are orphans living with Kyrie and Nero – since it was leaked for DMC 5 that Kyrie works in or even owns an orphanage, I couldn't help but think up a few kids who absolutely adore her, Nero and the rest of the DMC crew. Because kids are cute, and I love writing cute moments with kids. That's honestly the main reason.

* Christmas is something that is celebrated with the ones you love, and though the DMC crew sure cares about each other, I think they are not really good at SHOWING it – so, nobody ever really considered celebrating together, before. It would take someone like Kyrie, or Kyrie with backup, to put their foot down and just go ahead and DO it, because the other dorks wouldn't even think of it. So that's what happened here.

* I'm not sure if in this series, I will make Eva an umbra witch (as was theorized a few times before, because a witch-item in "Bayonetta" is being described as made by Eva, who was in contact with a Legendary Knight, which could either BE Eva from DMC or just a HOMMAGE to Eva from DMC) – but I sure as heck headcanon her as a) having fought against demons herself and b) being lovable and headstrong enough that even someone like Rodin can't help but hold some sympathy and probably even affection for her.

* With the point of Rodin knowing / liking Eva, I had in mind that if he stumbled upon Eva's and Sparda's family – like, here, Dante – and got the feeling that they are in trouble, he would use that opportunity to pay back whatever debt he felt he still had towards Eva and Sparda. Just to be even. Not because he CARES. Of course not. Duh.