The Consequences of Our Actions.

PG13 for language and violence. This is Anime/Manga-verse with crossover Nero from DMC4, will be entirely set/influenced from the animated series though. If you find the layout confusing, this is third person omniscient with Dante's POV in italics. Internal thoughts do not have quotations, and all conversations will be quoted as usual. Lady's POV will come in for a chapter or two later. Maybe even Nero's POV will matter at some point. Enjoy the story!

Dante/OC/OnesidedLady
Nero/Kyrie
Vergil/Unknown
Lady/OC
No Yaoi
Warnings : Character death in later chapters. Obvious supernatural and religious themes. Dont like? Dont Care. Dont Read.

Disclaimer that disclaims my rights to Devil May Cry. I do not own anything related to DMC.

Ringing. Lots of phone ringing. Why was the damn phone ringing so much? Who did they think they were calling…?

Oh shit. Its Monday morning isn't it? Damn. Everything.

Dante rolled off the couch, hobbling towards his desk to answer the phone.

"Devil May Cry…"

The agency's number was published now in the local directory, thanks to Morrison and Lady. That woman was hanging out around the office excessively now, constantly bitching about Dante's debts to her. She had been clingy. Annoying, really.

"Yeah, I prefer dealing with those supernatural bastards in person. Who are they following? Can I just send Nero? I'm pretty Rebellion is even pissed off at all the wimp-ass demons it's sliced into lately."

……………

"Right. Sure thing. Whatever."

So Dante slammed the phone back down and propped his legs up on the desk. He folded half of an old magazine into a plane and took aim at a sleeping Nero on the other side of the room.

Kid…maybe he'll respect me a little bit after I end up saving his ass again. For now, he can run a job errand for me. Aim….fire!

The plane glided right into Nero's nose, leaving the younger Sparda relative to jump from his sleep on the loveseat. He had been curled up in a ball, shielding his arm in his jacket.

"Dannntteeeeee……" was the sleepy mumble that hailed from his lips. Annoying.

"I don't apologize at the moment. Go find a shirt and get the hell to Morrison's office. He's got a job for you. I don't particularly feel like killing a bunch of low-tiers today."

"Bastard. Care to lend me another pistol? I'm going…dammit." Nero stood up to stretch. He had been mentoring under Dante for a few months now. Fortuna wasn't so accepting of his demonic heritage as the Devil May Cry agency. He missed Kyrie, and wrote her letters on a pretty regular basis, but she understood his need to train his powers into a better control. Dante was ultimately a good guy, and would look out for the kid, even if he came off as an asshole to her (and everyone else).

Dante dug into the desk drawer, to pull out an empty .45 and slid it across the floor to Nero. "There's ammo around her somewhere. Grab some and go. I'll cut the pay with you this time if you get the job right. "

So the young Nero followed his brotherly figure's orders. Dante reclined with a half hearted smile on his face. Today he wouldn't have to be reminded of the hell that was usually his day to day life.

Once that kid gets good enough, I can turn him loose. Send him back to that damned freakish Fortuna fairy land. I'll just hang out. Just keep my pizza tab going. Get Lady to leave me the hell alone. Patty should come by and clean up the office sometime to….damn. Why am I making to do lists like an old man?

For the first time in a while, Dante contemplated what it really meant to be Sparda's son. What it really meant to be half-breed demon. He was creeping up on being forty in human years. His aging process was slowing considerably. Looking 26 years old for an enternity couldn't be a downfall though.

This whole immortality thing was either going to suck ass, or leave a lot of time for strawberry sundaes and special order pizzas.

This does leave a long ass time to eradicate some hell scum. Rebellion will last that long. I'll have to polish the guns though. Find someone to keep cleaning this place up. Wait….God. Who the hell is going to clean this place up if Patty is gone? Nero?

Screw. That.

The reality that everyone around him was going to keep getting older and move on, or just simply die…was an interesting revelation for Dante.

After wandering to the kitchen and tipping a familiar glass bottle to his lips, he contemplated the thought.

I don't know…what the hell. I'm always going to be the demon hunter. I guess I'm always going to own this place. Suppose I'll always be alone, to.

He took a long swig, and shattered the bottle in his palm as a loud crash in the foyer seemed to ruin his sentimental moment with himself.

"DANTE"…. In a loud, growling demonic voice was the only clue to who was waiting in the other room. This bastard wasn't going to get Dante though. He was going to get Ebony's barrel through his skull.

What? These goons make house calls now? Damn….everything….again. This shit hasn't happened in a long time. Bastard better tell me why he's here in the first place before I show him the fucking door back to hell.

Nero wasn't going to be back anytime soon. Nobody was going to bother to know about the demonic house call until Patty, Lady or Trish came knocking and found the bloodstains on the walls…and they sure as hell weren't going to like cleaning that up.

The demon fisted holes into the walls of the office, raging as he caught a glimpse of silver hair on the other side of the doorway.

".BASTARD!" Two well aimed shots through the skull took him out, and he began to melt into the floor. That should have taken care of the problem, right?

"The hell…"

For there to be no demon in the room, a burning sensation of demonic presence overwhelmed Dante's senses. He felt the burning behind his eyes. Through his fingers. There had to be a multitude of demons here….were they possessing the place itself?

Shit….damn…..what….what do I…..

The Ebony pistol fell from his hand, and for once, the demon slayer Dante was overpowered by the intense presence, and the evoking of the demonic powers in himself. He tried making himself walk, but couldn't even stand…and the last thing he remembered was hearing his door get kicked in and a woman yell in some foreign language. Then Dante took another nap, unwillingly…passed out in the floor

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