Title: Taijitu

Author: Lomelindi

Summary: (AU) Years ago, fearing the power of Mundus, Sparda and Eva had separated the twins and had raised them apart. When Eva is killed, Dante suddenly finds himself reunited with a father he barely remembers and a stranger whom calls him brother.

NOTE: (9/17/2011) – Almost four years after I started writing this fic (and then subsequently took a break from writing fanfiction altogether), I've decided to pick it up again because I am insanely attached to this plot bunny. I've rewritten and tweaked the first three chapters and I'm working on the forth.

Also, a HUGE thanks goes out to all the readers whom have enjoyed this fic so far. You guys are the reason why I'm even bothering to re-write such an old story to begin with~

PROLOGUE

They had been young then -just old enough to remember, but not old enough to remember very much.

Dante recalled the sensation of cold stone under his fingertips and the comforting warmth of his brother's body pressed up against his side. There had been raised voices from behind a thick door, and he had heard his mother's agitated voice bouncing off the walls of the chamber beyond. His father's responses had been calmer and too low to be clear, but Dante remember being surprised that they were fighting at all. His parents had always told him that they did not fight over trivial matters for there were far more important things in the world for them to worry about when a demon lord took on a human as his mate.

Above all else, Dante remembered being nervous. It had been late at night and he had known that he and her brother were supposed to be in bed. He silently worried about what their punishment would be in the morning, but he was much too proud to admit this to his twin. If Vergil knew, he would call him a coward, and Dante knew he was anything but a coward.

His brother, always the faster of the two, had reached the massive doorway first. He was already listening with one ear pressed up against the door when Dante crept up and plastered his own ear against the thick wood between them. The younger boy was disappointed that he could barely make out any comprehensible words from the argument within, but Vergil was closer to the door crack and evidently heard more.

Dante had watched with fascination and growing confusion as all blood drained from his twin's face. Before he could ask, he felt Vergil snag his wrist and pull him abruptly away from the door.

Vergil never told him what it was that he heard, although Dante remembered that it had upset his brother greatly. The twins spent the rest of that night huddled in a ball in their bed, wrapped around each other for comfort and warmth. The desire to hold on to a twin for physical comfort was a primal demon instinct and one that seemed particularly strong that night. It was as if nothing in the world was more soothing than the feeling of their heartbeats beating against each other.

Dante hadn't dared to ask what was wrong. As much fun as it was to annoy Vergil, he could tell that his older twin was truly and deeply frightened, and that thought alone was enough to give him nightmares.

Dante's memories of the next morning were fragmented at best. He subsequently spent much of his life trying to erase it from his mind.

Glassy-eyed and unusually pale, their mother had woken them up that morning with a strange question. "If you had two very precious jewels," she had said, "and you wanted to hide them from this thief, what would you do?"

After a moment of confused consideration, Vergil answered that she should hide them in different places.

Their mother only looked at them with tears streaming down her face.

It took Dante many years to understand the full scope of the situation, but as a child, he could only comprehend one tragic, frightening fact: Vergil was leaving. In fact, Sparda was leaving with Vergil, and they weren't coming back.

Mundus, as it turned out, had learned about the sons of Sparda despite their every precaution.

Fearing for their childrens' safety, Sparda and Eva had made the quick, painful decision to separate their family -Vergil with Sparda and Dante with Eva. It was their hope that with the twins separated and hidden beyond Mundus's reach, it would take longer for the prince of darkness to find them. If (and when) he did, Sparda and Eva could only hope that their sons would be old enough to fight alongside with them.

TWELVE YEARS LATER

He was hurt, badly. He didn't know exactly how large his wounds were, but he knew they went deeper than he would have liked. Worst of all, they weren't healing -either his healing powers had been exhausted entirely, or the wound had been poisoned by demonic toxins.

Dante cursed his own carelessness and hissed as he clutched his side, trying to slow the worst of the bleeding as he stumbled his way through the construction site. The rain was coming down in thick torrents now, reducing visibility to a few dozen feet and soaking him through to the bone.

Cold, he thought, his teeth beginning to chatter. It wasn't a sensation he felt often since his demon blood usually kept him immune from being affected by the weather. Oh yes, his wounds were definitely poisoned. He needed an antidote and fast, but he was so disorientated that he wasn't even sure which direction their apartment was anymore. First off, though, he had to find his mother.

"Mom?" he called, his voice cracking. The word was quickly lost in the roar of the storm. He raised his voice and tried again, louder this time. "MOM?"

No answer. Her scent was nowhere to be found, and the rain was making it difficult to see anything. Growing more anxious by the second, Dante picked up his speed, using Rebellion as a make-shift cane as he stumbled across the uneven ground. He didn't dare call for Eva again; the pack of wolf-like creatures they had encountered earlier was still out and about. He didn't know how many of them were left, but he didn't want to have to fight them again in this weakened state.

Then, suddenly, his nose picked up on the familiar scent of human blood. Mom! He hurried his way across a heap of rubble, fighting to follow the faint scent through the drenching storm.

It lead him to a dark alleyway a few streets down. There were telltale signs that the wolves had been there; their feces were scattered on the sidewalk, and there were streaks of dark blood smeared against the walls of the buildings. A few dead ones were riddled with bullet wounds and the stench of burnt demon flesh was everywhere.

Mom did this, Dante realized, unsure to be horrified or proud. His heart pounded in his ears as he took off in a dead sprint down the alleyway. Please be okay. PLEASE be okay.

Suddenly, the puddles of demon blood gave away to splatters of bright red human blood. The sheer amount of it filled Dante with a paralyzing fear. Could a normal human lose that much blood and still survive? He certainly didn't know.

Maybe another human was with her, he thought, trying to keep calm despite a growing sense of desperation. Maybe the wolves attacked some bystanders instead. A part of him knew that his logic was flawed –it was much too late at night and much too rainy for any humans to be out and about at an abandoned construction site. Still, he clung to that tiny grain of hope. Maybe his mother wasn't here at all and she was standing elsewhere, waiting impatiently for him to find her so they could just go home.

His body screaming in protest with every step, the young hunter slowed and leaned heavily on Rebellion as he staggered a few more steps down the alleyway. He could feel cold dread clenching at his throat. Something wasn't... right. It had never taken him this long to find his mother after a battle before.

THERE! His heart jumped up to this throat as he caught a flash of gold hair in the shadows of a dumpster. He stumbled toward it. "Mom? Mom?" His voice cracked painfully, his throat so tight he could barely breathe. The coppery scent of human blood was overwhelming now. Pull yourself together, he told himself desperately as he patted around her jacket for a patch of bare skin, Maybe she's only got knocked out and we laugh this off as a bad day. Fuck it, a REALLY bad day.

Dante's trembling fingers touched cold flesh, and the sensation ripped an cry from his lips. No. It can't be."No. Nononono. WAKE UP! Mom!"

He gripped Eva hard by the shoulders and pulled her limp body into his lap, shaking her with all the strength he had left. Her head lolled limply against his arm and her closed eyes didn't stir. Her wet hair clung to her skin in clumps, and Dante noticed just how pale she was. Blood, he realized dimly, She's lost so much blood... Her body had deep, crimson gashes down her sides, most likely wounds sustained from a wolf's claws. The demon's paws had ripped straight through her jacket and one could even see parts of her exposed ribs underneath.

Dante knew immediately that he was looking at a fatal wound, but part of his mind refused to believe it. "Mom! WAKE UP! MOM!" He was sobbing now, screaming, not even caring that there were still demons on the prowl.

His own wounds were suddenly forgotten as he tried desperately to close hers, working at her torn torso with shaking fingers until his gloves were soaked with blood and he could hard see over the rainwater that poured over his forehead. Even so, his mother remained silent and unmoving in his lap.

Cursing loudly, Dante jammed his hands into his pockets and tossed out all the orbs he could find. He grabbed the first yellow one he saw and pressed it against Eva's skin. There was no reaction, not even the faintest hint of a glow. She's gone, a part of his mind reminded him, The orb won't work, she has no pulse. You can't bring her back.

Dante buried his face in Eva's neck and screamed for all that he was worth. He screamed until he was hoarse and weak and shaking, but even then he continued to sob against her body, willing her to come back by his own sheer strength.

Over the distant roar of the rain, he suddenly heard low, guttural howls answer his own cries. One by one, dark, four-legged demons began to pour into the alleyway, their red eyes glowing through the sheets of rain. The damp air was soon filled with their foul stench and the sound of padded paws slapping against rain puddles.

The wolves had returned, and they wanted the rightful ownership of their kill.

Dante was dying inside. The hunter part of him screamed for vengeance, but another part of him simply didn't care anymore. What was the point of continuing to fight when all he cared about and all that he fought to protect was now dead in his arms?

The teen lifted his face and glanced wearily at the pack of incoming wolves, his eyes dark and dull with pain. Do what you will, he thought, I'd rather be with her than with you sons of bitches.

The wolves leapt on him without hesitation. Larger than mortal wolves and much heavier, they sent him flying into the wall as they ripped at his flesh with massive fangs and claws. Dante struggled instinctively and fought back with his bare hands, but in his weakened state, it wasn't much of a battle. His vision was already fading, and he could no longer feel the extremities of his limbs. The toxin that was quickly building up in his blood rendered his healing abilities totally useless, and despite his demonid strength, he knew he wasn't going to last long.

He didn't want to last long.

Nothing meant more to him now than to protect his mother's body in the last moments of his life, which he tried to do by throwing himself over it. The wolves were perfectly happy with that and tore eagerly into his back, ripping his red coat into shreds and drawing involuntary cries of pain from the fallen hunter beneath them as their fangs stabbed into his skin.

Then, suddenly, two new roars rang clear over the frenzy. The sounds were deep, radiant, and terrifying beyond words, but to Dante's ears, they sounded strangely beautiful. He gasped instinctively for breath as the weight of many wolves was lifted off of him, their bodies thrown against the walls or into the air. The strange roars came again, closer this time and so loud that they rattled Dante's teeth.

Gone...They're all gone, the hunter realized with surprise, hardly conscious but still relieved. His fading vision picked up on one large, hulking form giving chase to the fleeing demons, but he couldn't get his brain to function enough to ponder about its shape.

Then, a pair of blue-skinned talons stepped into his line of vision. A brilliant glow cascaded over them and replaced them, oddly enough, with a pair of tan boots.

What is that, transformation? Shape-shifting? Dante half-hearted tried to remember the correct term for it but found that his befuddled mind could hardly remember his own name.

"Dante! Dante, wake up!" Hands -human hands- were unexpectedly pulling at him, pushing him against the wall and forcing him into an painful, upright position.

Every muscle and fiber in Dante's body screamed at the movement, but he couldn't bring himself to fight back with more than a weak groan. A face floated slowly into his vision, the face of a pale young man with slicked-back white hair and piercing blue eyes.

Through supreme effort, Dante gathered enough energy to give a dry, delirious laugh. "Give me... my... face... you bastard," he croaked, his voice so hoarse and weak that it was almost lost over the sound of the rain.

The face frowned at him and shook him repeatedly. Its lips moved for a minute or so before Dante registered that it was speaking. "Dante!" The voice was distant and muffled, as if he was hearing it from underwater. "Dante, stay with me! Look at me!"

I'm TRYING, Dante wanted to say, but he could feel his strength ebbing fast. There was sudden, comforting warmth as he felt himself being encased in strong arms and being pressed against a leather-clad shoulder. It felt... nice, really. A bit like Eva, although this man's shoulder wasn't nearly as comfortable.

"Father!" the voice was yelling above him, growing fainter by the second. "Father, he's fading!"

Father? That's nice, Dante thought, I don't remember my father. That was his last thought before darkness claimed him.

AN: Reviews and suggestions are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!