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DMC OTP100

Prompt # 76 Death

Word count: 2,446 (erk!)

Characters: Dante, Lady, minor bit players

Title: Side of the Veil

Rating: G

Warnings: Well, I wanted to do something that was just a mission, nothing big, and nothing overdone with fluff or romance or any side genre, just a mission and our duo. Length, obviously, and the sweet edge this has. It is totally worth it though.

I might move this to another fic collection if people are receptive to the idea. I really like doing little hunt pieces, not about major things, but about the day to day humdrum of being hunters, and I would be looking into doing it for Sparda, Eva, Vergil, and any characters in any combination really, and would be willing to look into setting hunts on all sorts of supernatural phenomenon and genre, especially if people suggested it. I think it's a bang-up idea and I may just do a few pieces anyway. This was almost a SxE one, because I felt it suited them too, suited their giving natures.

Disclaimer-bot: To be brief, she does not own Devil May Cry, Lady, or Dante. Capcom does.

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Pro bono wasn't something she and Dante advertised as doing at all, but they had both done it more than willingly in the past, and they still did it when the situation arose. Being a hunter meant being out there to do the job, to hunt demons and to protect humans, not looking for the paycheck. Even with mouths to feed, it wasn't like they couldn't afford to work free for the needy, not with his father alive and more than willing to cover bills when they couldn't. Not that they would ever have asked, both a little too proud for that.

Pro bono for them meant being pro life, meant truly being interested in doing the job they swore to do. It meant lending a hand and cleaning up where otherwise no one would have paid attention and it meant greater gratitude than just stacks of bills in briefcases. Saving people who had something to save was appreciated, but it was always those who had the least who gave the most in return for the selfless work, even if it was just repeatedly mumbled thanks and sighs of relief, like this elderly woman.

Her name was June, and she was stubbornly living in her old, creaking wood, fading paint settlement house, the one with just a single bath and two bedrooms, where she and her late husband had raised five kids. The kids were all grown now and living in upstate New York and New Hampshire, living in cookie-cutter suburbia homes and trendy apartments. Her youngest son was closest, and it was he who had made the call, had dialed in 888 – 348 – 6837. Their youngest had snatched the phone up excitedly, even though he was not supposed to answer that line, and the young man had almost hung up in frustrated confusion before Dante had rescued the call.

His mother's house was haunted, the young man said, there was something living there besides her, and he was afraid it would hurt her, even if it wasn't malevolent and he didn't really believe in ghosts. He just worried that she would be frightened of it, even if it was just a large squirrel or something and that she would stumble in shock and fall and get hurt. It was pretty clear that he was genuinely frightened of something he couldn't explain and sound like he was rational, and it was more clear that he wanted to protect his mother, even if he wasn't too sure about the authenticity of these 'handymen'.

But he hadn't been able to stay the night and keep an eye on her and he hadn't been able to arrange payment either – he could wire them money, no matter the job cost, he said, begging tone just under his attempt at adult control of a situation he felt his mother shouldn't handle. She was old he said, and could they please just come by and look into it, even if she wasn't going to pay? Of course, her husband had said, arranging to arrive at eight and dropping the phone to its antique cradle before chasing after their own son half-reprimanding and half-teasing. He was never good at discipline, she knew, but at least he was disciplined enough to write down the contact information.

They were there by quarter 'til eight and she patted his broad shoulder as she slipped out from behind him on the single motorcycle they had taken – she knew what mothers meant to him, because they meant the same to her. Her own sons were already like that too, but then, they were still at that age where mommy and daddy were the world and were the 'coolest and bestest people ever'.

The old woman, June, was a tiny grey-haired and chain-spectacled wisp, who looked like she was frail and afraid, but who had obviously had her own share of life's joys and burdens and become strong for it, because she met them at the aging screen door and smiled warmly; Old-fashioned kindness to guests mixed with confidence in their ability to treat her nicely as well. She would have none of them standing around or just passing in to do their work and Dante's genuine, big-hearted laugh at her already set out offer of warm tea made her smile brighten from light copper to sunny gold, ho-ho-ing herself gently when he explained it made him think of his Pops. Such a nice young man, she complimented, and was the sweet, quiet lady his wife? Lady had murmured that she was, although she had those days she wished she wasn't, which had the old woman laughing with a little more mirth, old memories in her eyes.

She really didn't think there was anything in the house, she said quite suddenly, face falling and they knew it was probably because she was afraid not of what might be in her house, but of losing what had been in it, and what it meant to her to stay in it. When her husband had passed, she admitted, a retired minister, the house had seemed a little less bright, but things had cheered up since then, she remarked and jokingly added that it was probably because she didn't have to nag him and get in a foul mood anymore. Lady had chuckled at that, knowing all about nagging husbands herself, but glad that she hadn't had to nag him to do this. She never had to nag him to work, because he loved their job, but she did have to get on his tail about being a sterner father and setting an adult example. He was just a big, soft-hearted kid, a laid-back person who only wanted to enjoy life and love his family, and she loved him for it, loved that he was like that even with who and what he was.

He had politely declined the tea, however, bowing out with manners she knew his mother had taught him over long hours and said he would like to just look around the place. Lady had taken the hint and asked if June would chat with her for just a bit over the tea, she was thirsty and grateful for the offer, and true to by-gone manners the old woman had settled down with the younger woman and told the young man he could go anywhere he pleased, just not the cellar. The steps were bad, she explained, and the bulb had gone out rather unexpectedly and she couldn't replace it on her own. Dante agreed with thanks, striding out on his long legs into the kitchen and then his red-coated back disappeared around the corner into the washing room.

The two women chuckled after his departure, June murmuring that men just didn't know how to sit down and enjoy five minutes of peace and quiet, and Lady agreeing that her husband was always on the go. But, she admitted, it meant she could have five minutes of peace and quiet, without her boys clamoring for her to play games and read stories she had already done seven times with them.

"Boys?" June had asked in the quiet tone of marveling interest that the old took in the young, "If they're anything like mine were, I'm sure they're a handful, but a precious one."

"They are. They're twins, so identical you can't tell them apart unless you dress them apart, and a little wild, but they're just too curious and enthusiastic to be annoying."

"Oh, twins are just darling, although it's true what they say about double trouble. Is it from your family or his?"

"His. He has a twin brother, and his father had a twin, but they haven't seen each other in years." Millenia, really, but she wasn't going to add that in with just anyone, and that wasn't the important part. They were all going to live long, or in the case of her mother-in-law and herself, live, die, and be resurrected, but they were going to stick around as family for a long time.

"Family is so important, it must have been hard to be separated from his twin for so long. It's hard when we lose those important to us."

"It is." And she knew that, knew because she had lost her family once before and almost lost this one, almost never seen her sons. It shouldn't have been a complicated birth, but it had been, and they would have lost their boys if they weren't who they were and their family wasn't what it was. It was hard to remember seeing their tiny forms lying breathless in the delivery room bassinet, and hard to breathe when the doctors had left for a family moment of peace and mourning and his father could set life to thrumming in their little bodies again. Next time, next time she promised that her husband and she would not go through that, and that she would do whatever it took to bring their children into the world alive.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" He was back, having made the circuit of the tiny weathered and worn house, Velveteen rabbit-like in its use and used up beauty.

"Oh, no dear, we were just discussing family, just little memories and sweet things."

"You're right, your father would like June, and your mother would too." It was her way of saying that this person knew what all of their family did, of saying it would be worth it to work this pro bono, even though they had already decided that.

"There really wasn't anything in this quiet old place, was there?" The old woman didn't look worried, but something in her tone couldn't quite be hidden and Lady flicked her eyes to Dante in askance, not knowing if he had found anything.

"Not up here. But may I check the cellar? I won't fall, I'm used to this sort of thing, and there probably is nothing, but I want to be thorough, ma'am."

"Well, I suppose, but please be careful, I don't want anyone to get hurt or have an accident."

"I won't. I'll replace the bulb if you'd like, too."

"Oh, dear, no, I couldn't ask…"

"Don't worry, it's not a problem."

When he had gone again, directed to the pantry door where June kept her household repair items and a few other household necessities, Lady had comforted the old woman gently. It was one thing to sooth away fears of the unknown, but to sooth away mundane frets over civility and someone else's well-being was just as important.

"Don't worry, my husband is a professional. He does our job well, just as well as he does anything else, even if it's not asked of him."

"It's so very kind of him to do that for me, and I can't even pay you, or at least my son says I can't. I can, I have some money in the lockbox…"

"No, ma'am, we won't need payment. We do our job because it's important to us, because we value it for the reward it gives people, for the comfort, not for anything else."

They wouldn't have asked for pay even if she could have given it, not now, and Lady certainly would not have asked after the next minute. All the lights flickered, and somehow, she knew he had known, knew he had been stalling because he hadn't wanted this to happen, hadn't wanted an old mother to have to experience something so quietly disturbing. After the lights flickered, there was a slight hum in the air, a charge that Lady could barely feel with the small amount of demon blood in her ancestry, and she knew all June could feel was the unexplained terror that the unknown sent up into humans. She hugged the older woman, who was trembling just slightly, calming her and saying it was just a circuit breaker reacting, and he would have the house back to normal in a jiffy.

He did, and she did not need to know what it was that had been down there, because if she could barely sense it and was getting the tingle of trepidation herself, then that meant it was something she couldn't have handled. Demons weren't all they took on, but most hunters could do nothing against the other unknowns wandering around, and she was grateful that he could. It meant they could help out just a little more, meant they could ease a few more minds and lives, with or without pay as a reward. The dead didn't mean it, but sometimes they grated on the living, sometimes they just didn't get along with them and just caused a little too much discomfort to let go.

June thanked them as they left, standing behind her screen door, and they had told her that she was fine, and if she ever needed anything she could call them. Her smile was golden and genuine as they settled back on their shared motorbike and rode off, and she settled back in to her house grateful, feeling it was brighter than even when her husband had been alive and safe enough to sleep in her bed once again. She would call her son in the morning, and make him be as proper as that young couple and pay them for their work, even for the lightbulb replacement, because if you didn't thank people then you didn't let them know you thought they were important, and you had to let them know that before it was too late and death parted your paths.

"What was it?" She asked him much later, as they laid in their bed, half-asleep and half-listening to their sons settle down to slumber-land across the hall.

"What you thought it was." He grinned just slightly, leaning over to kiss her temple and laying back with a mildly teasing grin.

"I'm glad you took care of it then, although I hope it was just putting on a light show."

"Putting out a light show, you mean? Hm, yeah, it was. It didn't mean any harm, but it was terrified of me, at least until I set it straight about how it needed to get a move on home."

"Well, if I was a ghost, seeing a shepherd of hell, even just half and soft-hearted, wouldn't make me very comfortable."

He laughed, laughed that big-hearted, happy laugh she loved and she chuckled with him, hugging his wide frame and loving the feel of family and success they shared. Death was life's biggest trial, but it wasn't so bad when you had someone else who understood the importance of handling both right.