A/N: um, yeah, I have no plan at all so I'm just gonna write.
It wasn't ever Dantes intention to abandon Betty. How was it his fault? How could he ever have ever predicted that her mother would abandon her to live on the streets? And was it his fault that the sweet cheery little girl he had once known would become an aging whore?
Dante hadn't aged at all. Just as pretty and cold as the last time they had met. And now she was thirty, wrinkles beginning to crease her once flawless skin. She couldn't blame Dante, she wouldn't. but, still, somewhere deep inside she wondered where he had been all those sleepless nights when her pimp would beet her and she would sob, screaming Dante's name, and getting hit harder for think about other men.
Betty was still pretty though, despite the fact that the last remnants of her child like innocent joy had left her face left her dead eyes.
Dante probably didn't remember who she was. He took her and walked out, muttering something about how his brother was going through a fit because he had stayed out so late and slept with someone else and how it wasn't his fault that he some times wanted to be on top, or missed tits.
Dante hadn't known what to say to comfort her. He had planned on going home, having pizza, getting drunk and passing out on his brother's chest. But, he had seen Betty, seen past her wrinkles, past her cheep make up, and seen the little girl that had wrenched his sword out of his heart, so long ago. He couldn't tell her that she recognized her. So he fucked her and left her double her usual rate because he wanted to hold his old friend again.
Weather or not Dante realized it, he had given her something deep that she treasure. He had rekindled a tiny spark of hope in the pathetic woman's heart.
A/N yeah, I'm weird. My grandmother was pissing me off so I sat down to write and this sorta came out. Yeah, I kinda hate her brother and she was bitching about it… please review, love spider wench