Title: Dad
Author: Ash Gray Kitsune
Pairings: NeroxKyrie, DantexDOC
Warnings: Dante's mouth, Nero's mouth, Lady's mouth, TW child abuse/kidnapping, and demon guts.
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry, nor do I make any profit off of it.
A/N: There is one part that is being cut out of this story due to the graphic nature, but it is still available for viewing at AFF, under my name Ash_Gray_Kitsune. It is in regard to child abuse, so please heed the warnings.
Not for the first time, Dante wondered if the human world was really Hell in disguise. Here he was, perched in a dead tree, soaked to the bone and bleeding, and somewhere off to the west, some jackass was summoning a goddamn portal. Add the eerie black clouds above, the sleet lancing down, and a cruel wind blowing, and he couldn't find a better allegory for the bowels of Lucifer's domain. Plus, his fucking head still hurt from the hangover this morning...though that pain was nothing compared to the empty shell that was his heart.
I miss you, Verg.
"Goddamn fucking dumbass summoners..." He muttered, the cursing alleviating some of his tension as he fished around fruitlessly for another Vital Star, knowing that he was out, but checking again anyway. At least trying to wiggle numb fingers into the buttoned pockets inside his duster was a distraction; demonic half-blood he might be, but Dante was still human enough to get cold. He wouldn't get sick, no, but he also wasn't getting warm anytime soon. With a tired sigh, he gave up the search and turned his gray-blue eyes to the horizon, hissing a little as he caught the glimmer of a large fire. It glittered red and yellow, a simple bonfire...
So, the bastard was human? Joy, that was another complication. He had, after all, vowed to never slaughter a human being...and normal jails didn't hold dudes who made a habit of making lower-level demons their bitches well at all. Well, with any luck, he'd have a reason to leave the fucker with no arms, no legs, and his eye sockets gouged out. For now, though, he swung out of the blackened tree and landed a little harshly on the ground, thankful that there wasn't a soul around. At least he didn't have to show off tonight...
In less time than it had taken to down his hordes of rotting corpses and demonic creations, the man Dante'd been sent to hunt was cowering at his feet, bound, gagged, and tied to a particularly large log while the demon hunter rooted through the camp, taking a careful inventory of everything that had been stolen by the stupid fucker. As he did so, though, he stayed carefully away from the tainted stone chest that had served as the man's altar, eyes wary at the amount of dried blood coating its surface.
There was something inherently wrong with the slab of marble on top, though he couldn't put a finger on exactly why it bothered him so. That was, at least, until the rain and ice had stopped, and his sense of smell had returned with a vengeance. He hissed and gagged a little at the reek of both demonic blood...and human. Very, very young human. Gray eyes tinged with red as he strode over to the quivering, stinking wretch, and Dante jerked him upright, yanking the gag down.
"What the unholy FUCK were you doing here?!" He snarled, feeling an urge to Trigger almost crawl over his skin. "You've been fucking killing kids, you sick fuck!" The summoner wheezed out a gasp, but nothing else, his eyes as full of fear as any of his other hunts...though there was a touch of petty delight that he'd gotten under the half-demon's skin so abruptly. Dante forced back the urge to snap the fucker's neck, and shook him, hard. Enough that it dislocated one of the bastard's shoulders, and as he howled in agony, he was tossed unceremoniously back on the ground as the half-demon stalked away, hands clenched so tightly that he was drawing blood.
Goddamn motherfucking cuntwhistle...
He snarled and whipped out both Ebony and Ivory, shooting down a few of the remaining demon birds to try and ease his temper...when a high, weak cry startled him out of his rage. Turning, Dante stared around the camp, entirely nonplussed by what sounded like...
A baby? But, there's no kid here...when his attention was caught by the fat fuck responsible for all of this in the first place. Wiggling his bulk around, the summoner was heading towards the altar, grimacing when another wail, this one louder and angrier, split the air.
Dante crossed over the dying remains of the fire and flung the slab off the chest, shoving aside the blankets and sheets swathing the youngster before sitting back with a swift intake of breath. Silver hair, bloodied presumably from the afterbirth, and cornflower blue eyes blinked up at him, the naked child barely more than a few hours old. His umbilical cord wasn't even cut properly...he looked as though he'd been taken directly from his mother's womb, and shoved here like so much filler. Gently, carefully, Dante reached down and wrapped the child up, cradling him in one large hand as he smoothed back those spiky silver locks.
There was a shock as his fingers touched the boy's bare skin, and for a moment, Dante closed his eyes and took a deep, slightly shaky sniff. He smelled of new life and old blood, of demonic power dormant...and of kinship. He smelled of a human mother...and Dante. A fierce hold clamped down on his senses, and for a moment that spanned eternity, he stared down at his son, wonder warring with disbelief. Behind him, a soft, vicious cackle filled the air.
"He's your spawn, oh hunter of demons. His slut of a mother couldn't bear the thought of a babe with your blood marring his humanity, and so she tossed him at me this morning, when I so graciously offered to...make use of him-ANGH!"
Dante didn't kill humans, no. He protected them, hunted for them, and made sure that the hordes of Hell stayed clear the fuck away from anyone of human descent.
But that didn't mean that he didn't punish the arrogant fuckers who thought themselves above both humans and demons. As he cleaned and sheathed his broad knife, one-handed, he cradled his boy to his chest. The summoner wouldn't die from his newest wound, since all the demon-hunter had done was slice off his tongue. But that wasn't any of Dante's concern. Not now. No, he only had eyes for the tiny child nestled in his arms, lulled to sleep by a tone-deaf, half-remembered song.
Betcha don't even have a name yet...how about...
"Nero."