My sincerest apologies to everyone for the lateness of this chapter, i've never been so long without access to a connected computer. Finally got the bitch back online tho and got to work on this. The final chapter and i've done my best to make it worth the wait. I've also started another story (Lord of the Rings based) which I'll be posting soon and the Epilogue to Rahovart is being worked upon. Hope you enjoy this last one. It's dedicated to my best and favourate reviewers (you know who you are by now, love you) Here we go, Skaye.

Later the next day, two figures in red leather or blue denim battle gear, bristling with concealed blades and happily weighed down by bags of coins from Genevieve, walked leisurely down to the shore to where both small boats were landed above the tide line. Without a single word, Dante got into his, Lucia to hers and with a nod and a small smile, they set off. They never meant to start a race but with two craft heading in the same direction at dangerous and probably illegal speeds it was inevitable. Especially when both drivers were highly competitive and almost immortal. They swept across the waves, boats lurching crazily throwing water over their occupants until they were drenched and it seemed a miracle they hit the harbour on the Spanish coast with no major injuries. Both were soaked through and Lucia smugly triumphant which meant drinks were on Dante. That evening he called Lady from the cheap hotel that smelled of fish and smoke to ask about borrowing her plane again to which she very reluctantly agreed; the plane, she'd said, was on its last legs. At dawn the next day, it got them off the ground, however, and they made it back to the US with minimal damage to life and limb.

The pilot was terrified and made it very clear whenever the mood took him how slim their odds of survival were and exactly what he thought of them and their plan. He was largely ignored. Motor-biking back across the country to home with Lucia holding nonchalantly to his back, Dante reflected that despite how it may feel, he hadn't really been away for that long, about a week, and essentially not much had changed.

The Devil May Cry still stood (just) jammed into a grimy corner of the warehouse district with its door still hanging half off. He felt a sudden swell of pride for his home and walked inside stroking his hand down the lintel for luck. It was largely unchanged, the desk, the chair, the heavy old phone. Lucia instantly went up to her room (previously the guest room) and left her few belongings and showered. By now the sun was setting and Dante walked lazily around flicking on lights and checking over his beloved business.

He ordered two pizzas and put coffee on before going back to his desk and sitting in the chair, feet up on the desk as he had for years. On a sudden thought, he opened the drawer and took out the little dish that contained his little tokens from previous encounters. He dropped into it both the rings he'd been given, the original red-gold 'calling card' and Madeline's silver would-be wedding band.

He fingered the little things in it thoughtfully, suppressing with all his might the great tide of memories and images that they brought back. Lady's bullets punching into his flesh all over and his pain and cursing as he'd removed them later on, Trish hunting everywhere for that earring which he'd only found two moths after she left and the delicate little twinge of pain it caused as much by her memory as the little dagger-shape sticking into the soft sole of his foot. He saw again Lucia's tears as they watched the swirling portal in the air and she confessed to him what she'd just learned of her false lineage and origins. He saw again Madeline as he'd first seen her, pretty and pale on her bed and the sweet little smile she'd given her mother on waking.

He put the dish away. He hated wallowing in memory. Waste of time. He shook his head to clear it. Right on cue, the pizza arrived and as he got up to get it, Lucia came downstairs and sat down at the other side of the desk. She was carrying a new manilla file and a couple of pens and as Dante sat down again with the pizza, she began to write in easy copperplate. The title - The Court and Progeny of Lord Rahovart. He saw what she was planning and made to get up and leave but she looked up at him and fixed him with her stare.

"Please," she said softly, the first words spoken since their arrival, "it'll help, I swear. And we need to document it anyway."

Dante moaned and protested but sat down.

"Now how did this whole business begin?" she asked. He took a deep breath and began to recount the whole tale in facts and statements with a few vague opinions and coarse words about vampires. He confessed not a single thought or feeling and the job was done within an hour. Lucia put her pen down, closed the file and looked at him again with those intense blue eyes.

"And what does this mean to you?" she asked. The question caught Dante completely off-guard but he considered it anyway. He turned away from her and looked at the weapons and trophies mounted on the far wall. He sighed;

"It means vampires are total fucking fruit cakes."

She laughed slightly but her silence that followed made it clear she wanted more of an answer than that. He continued;

"It means if a friend gives you a knife, you should always cut your hand open with it when facing certain death. And…I guess it means I can't really handle everything alone all the time."

That answer satisfied her a lot more as if it had somehow proved something. She got up to leave taking the file with her to write her own notes. Dante settled back into his chair and kicked the phone as was his habit when he was in a less than good mood.

"Who says I can't work alone?" he muttered to himself.

He slept badly when he eventually did, his dreams were full of monsters and battles which, any other time, he might have enjoyed. Not tonight. Tonight when he closed his eyes, he stood in a grey barren field with Vergil in full battle gear on one side of him and Lucia, glowing strangely with a soft white light, on the other. They were both armed and seemed ready to face a foe he couldn't see. He turned to speak toLucia and enquire as to what in the hell they were doing there but before he could open his mouth, three grotesque monsters landed in front of them where they crouched snarling and gnashing their huge jaws. He gasped and swore and drew his sword ready to fight when the image cut out. He woke suddenly and breathlessly in his own bed in his own room. He quickly discovered the noise which had woken him, in the next room Luciasobbed and cried out in her sleep. Dante wasn't in the mood for being understanding, he rose and banged on the wall with his fist, yelling as he did;

"Hey, Lucia! Keep it down; some of us are trying to sleep! Lucia!"

The noise stopped and he heard her breathing heavily. He called out again, trying to sound unconcerned;

"You okay through there?"

Her voice in reply was breathless and edgy;

"I'm fine. I, uh, sorry. Nightmares."

Then there was nothing. He shrugged and went back to bed trying to figure out in his head what the hell the dream could have meant. He rarely dreamed and when he did it was never about Vergil. He regarded his brother with a sort of hateful indifference and scorn. It was ugly and he generally ignored it. As for fighting three weird beasts…? It didn't make sense. Unable to sleep any longer, Dante pulled on his clothes and swept his hair out of his eyes and headed downstairs. If Lucia showed any awareness of his movement, she gave no sign. He went all the way down to the basement and took up his guns.

Firing range; the perfect cure for insomnia. He took aim and focused his thoughts into just three things of vital importance; the ready gun, the painted centre of the target and the empty distance between. He fired three shots and the target fell. Satisfied, he fired again and again, bullets thundered and flew. Wooden circles splintered and fell. He felt calmer but continued until none were left standing. He twirled his gun and stuck it in its holster with a smug smile then paced to the end of the range and set the targets up again. He destroyed all but the last one this time and just as he took aim at it, a knife flew past his ear and buried itself into the heart of the target which promptly split and fell.

He looked around, peeved, and saw Lucia pulling another knife out of her belt with a perfect imitation of his own previous smug smile. He fired three bullets in her direction knowing they'd miss and dig themselves into the wall. Two did just this and the third; she deflected back at him with a swift flick of her Sai. He was impressed but said nothing. They set the targets back up together and stood side by side at the firing end of the range and took aim, knives and bullets flew for a few brief minutes before the last target gave up the ghost. As they walked back down the range, Dante said;

"Care to tell me about your nightmare?"

Lucia smiled and retorted;

"Would you tell me yours?"

Dante took the hint and shut up for another seven rounds while he thought about nothing in particular. The wonderful thing about target shooting was that it didn't require any thought but the intense focus of aiming and the satisfaction of hitting. He shared the space easily with Lucia whose presence seemed as natural to him as solitude. She was cold, true, but she was subtle and tactful and he sensed many many depths to her that were beyond him. Perhaps with time…. Depended how long she would stick around for really. He had a knack for losing partners on a regular basis. Especially female ones. But as they shot together he felt comfortable and easy in a way he was unused to. He liked it. The session ended too soon with the dawn light coming creeping through the high street-level windows. Lucia admitted she was tired at that point and headed off un-braiding her hair. Dante saw her leaving and called out;

"Hey! Lucia!"

She turned round on the stairs, hair down and full of waves from her braids, the way he so rarely saw it but liked it best. All he needed to see. He smiled truly satisfied at her.

"Nothing. 'night."

She shook her head at his hopeless strangeness and returned his smile before continuing upstairs. Dante smiled to himself and holstered his guns heading up after her ready at last to sleep.