Author: Moiranna
Title: Calm Before the Storm
Theme: #34 - Lightning/Thunder
Rating: PG-13
Realm: Devil May Cry
Pairing: None
Characters: Dante, Sparda, Vergil
Genre: family, tragedy
Warnings: Off-screen character death. A bit of blood and gore, nothing graphic
Word-count: 1081
Summary: The first lesson their father gave them and their reactions to it.
Notes: Author notes at the end of the story =)

"One has to respect nature, or it will destroy you." This was one of the earliest memories Dante had of his father saying. The Dark Knight Sparda had been tired to the very core, even three-year old Dante could tell as much. Earlier that night father had come home, soaked to the bone, blood staining his normally oh so neat clothing. But now he'd cleaned up, and stood with his boys by the large bay windows in the lower living room.

It had been raining outdoors, no – to say it was raining was to say that it was like a fine drizzle. It was a majestic storm, rain practically pouring down in buckets. Great bolts of lightning sizzled throughout the sky, making it bright as day. Otherwise it was completely dark, save for a few lit candles throughout the darkened mansion.

Dante didn't recall why the light was out; perhaps the main fuses had blown some hours earlier when the lightning had struck the building. He didn't care; all he cared about was that it was dark and scary, and that he was holding tightly onto Vergil with one hand and the other clutching at father's trouser-leg. Lightning and thunder, he decided there and then, was completely terrifying.

Vergil however was different. While any adult could tell that he was terrified he stood straight and didn't flinch from the lightning, not even when a bolt struck a tree and it started burning. The elder twin every now and then glanced at their father for support, however he seemed not to notice it. It wasn't until the twins were dismissed to bed and Dante rushed upstairs, Vergil taking it slower until he was out of sight from their parents that he joined his brother's frantic pace, diving for cover underneath the covers in Dante's bed. Holding onto one another as if life depended on it they both flinched at every crack, and it took hours before the two drifted off to an exhausted sleep.

The sky was darkening at an alarming pace. Vergil looked up at the rain-heavy clouds from where he'd been hiding behind some bushes from Dante and their game of hide and seek, sensing something different in the atmosphere. Though only just four years old there was a pressure and heaviness in the air he only faintly could remember, and it made his hackles rise.

Dante chose that moment to pounce on him, tackling him to the ground while laughing and cheering.

"Looooooser," his brother was taunting him, and the elder sibling was momentarily distracted, fighting back and showing the younger one that he did no such thing as lose. Caught up in their tousling the both of them missed the first distant rumblings, but when the sky suddenly lit up and a crack tore through the sky the both of them froze, both staring wide-eyed at what approached.

In less than a second the both of them were on their feet rushing back home, crossing the large meadow faster than what seemed humanly possible. Once inside they hid in Vergil's room, curling up next to one another. On some level they knew that it was childish and that they should be braver than this, but the lightning made every instinct in them want to hide.

Late that night their father came home, and Vergil awoke from the pained sound coming from the ground floor. Outside it was still raining but the worst of the storm had passed, so with a quick glance at his sleeping brother Vergil tip-toed out and to the staircase, peeking at what was happening.

Downstairs father was struggling with taking off his outer coat, and even with only the hall-light lit Vergil could see blood soaking his clothes. The devil leaned against the wall, breathing heavily and grimaced as he peeled off the purple coat and the white shirt underneath – only it was more red than white.

Upstairs Vergil chewed his lip and tightened his hold on the railing, worry replacing the fear. He must have made some sound because light-blue eyes snapped open and turned to look straight at him.

"Go to bed, son. Everything is fine."

Like the dutiful son he was he crawled back under the covers next to Dante, but it took many hours before he fell asleep.

Sparda was home early. He calmly sat with both sons in the living room while explaining the nature of thunder and lightning, graciously ignoring that Dante was yawning halfway through it. Still tension hung in the air, and later that night Eva found her sons sleeping in Dante's bed.

Another night, another storm. They'd turned seven that winter, and the first storm of the spring had come as quite the surprise. The twins once more shared a bed, as was their now unspoken agreement though they both knew that this was silly and that a bit of lightning wouldn't hurt them.

Out in the hallway the clock struck three AM. Faintly they could hear their mother pace in the master bedroom. Every sound aside from the harsh pattering of rain or the crack of thunder made Vergil flinch just the slightest. Dante had long since giving up his pretense of not noticing and just stared at the ceiling.

"I don't think dad will return."

The words hung in the air for a long time, Vergil not saying a word, but it seemed that this indeed was the case. They knew what the storms meant, and in an off way they sensed what would happen if Sparda didn't return.

Morning arrived eons later, and two bleary-eyed brothers found that outside the front door the puddles from the rain were more red than see-through.

It was storming. For the past hour or so there had been a scritch-scritch sound at the windows. A part of Dante wanted to check what was out there, but he remained in his position in the kitchen pantry. Something started rattling the door downstairs. Eva kept them from opening the doors, in a hushed voice begging them to stay hidden, no matter what happened. Something snuffled loudly by the kitchen doorway, then pushed. The door bulged inwards but for the moment held. Closing his eyes the youngest son clutched at a large bag of rice since Vergil hid in another part of the house, his heart racing furiously. Again and again he wished for dad to show up.

Dad never arrived. The storm did.

Fin

AN: this started with me just writing the first bit about Sparda lecturing the boys about lightning/thunder and ended with Dante's reaction that he hated it all. Then I started wondering – what if there's another reason they hate it? They are devilkind, after all. Or well, partially. Give me your two cents of what you think about it =)