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Dreams Will Be Made Of These	By : Britt_601 Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 3810 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry or its characters. Blah, blah, blah-no money is made off of this either.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter 16: Drawback Pt 1

The fight with the female lizard passed by in a blur.

Her screech attack polarized their hearing, swinging her spiked tail around to pierce them. Since Dante swayed with a weakened balance, the teenager handled most of the taunting and direct blows so she wouldn’t kill Dante, for real this time. Rapid bullets chipped her hide, exposing soft flesh to allow Nero to deal the final blow.

The battle abruptly ended when Nero charged up the shotgun he threw away from him, taking off the hardened shell protecting her heart. Fired pellets entered the over-sized muscle, igniting on fire with each slug. The she-reptilian fell down hard, howling to the world of her easy defeat.

To their surprise, she wasn’t talkative throughout the scuffle, the duo welcoming her silent tenure, yet they still needed evidence about this demonic town. What little details she babbled about and what he heard while he ate left a shit load of questions in need of answers.

The half-demon staggered to his left, shaking his head once then wincing, lifting his hand to his open wound after more blood had pooled out. The teen saw the man jerk, holding a grimace on his face because he didn't know Dante's pain tolerance limit.

When he thought on it, compared to his punctured chest by Dante's broadsword, he'd been very lucky. If he got shot, it seemed reasonable he wouldn’t even be standing, never mind up and walking about.

He didn’t know how far his injuries extended, but if they ran alongside the elder's, he did not want to go through the experience of it.

Dante made his way to the front porch and knelt down, leaning against one of his knees to look upon the dying man. In short, he wondered if the old timer knew about the black-mailing demon with her telling him to zip it, but their loving gestures told otherwise.

Nero briefly gave him some twisted version of comfort… assistance… or some shit before dropping him on his gash to cry foul at the she-monster’s rebuttal. It felt as if someone hit his skull with a lead baseball bat connecting to the ground.

He had to school the brat in keeping his exorbitant sentiments under a lid, especially concerning heated disputes. Speaking of which, Edward wound himself in a circumstance which provided no benefit to anyone. Whether his actions sought forgiveness in sending people to their early deaths concerned Dante none, but getting him to deliver information to prevent this from further escalating was.

“You’re a demon, aren’t you?” Edward wheezed out, covering his injury with his right hand.

“Yes, I am.”

“And yet you hunt your own kind?”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“Long story… not really interesting.”

Edward nodded, coughing up blood shortly after. The veteran knew he had little time to live, so he needed to get him talking else he remained in the dark about this growing problem.

“Where are the relatives of the people that live here?”

“In their homes… with their loving families until the… the end… end the-”

“Hey, stay with me for a while, old timer. Until the end of what?”

“The month. Officer Scott… told anyone who… had family up here that communication will be unavailable to their families.”

Dante scrunched his face in annoyance. That would have been a nice detail to know before all this happened. “Now, who’s Officer Scott?”

“A lackey employed by Caramel Caroline.”

Great. More fantastic news. When he thought one situation to be done and solved, here comes another twice as bad. Not only are humans hopping on this thing like a hot, new trend but demons jumped into authoritative positions.

His mind, at least the functioning part of it, said to go to every dive along the road and kill any lurking lechers surrounding the area. Is it better to stop somewhere and sleep overnight, preferably in this region to finish off the demons?

No sense in going all the way home and then backtracking out here. But he needed to add extra weapons to his arsenal and drop off all this stuff in the trunk, not to mention the errand of putting his car in the shop.

Where was Trish when he needed her?

The devil hunting gang all agreed to divide their territory to respond quicker to demonic reports. Dante and Nero handled the local jobs and when necessary, the ones way out of town. Lady took the missions in the suburban-city area, and Trish adventured to the outskirts of the district.

The blonde demoness is the first to know about oddities that were demon-like in nature, so it garnered little surprise if she knew about the happenings going on around the neighborhood. He wondered if she pursued anything close to what they did now. After all, she mingled with the in-crowd, of the underworld that is.

“Can you promise me some things, my boy?”

“If it’s within my will to do so.”

“If my children are somehow alive, but I think they’re not-” Edward closed his eyes to keep his tears at bay, but a few watery droplets spilled out. He continued, “Can you ensure they’re put up somewhere safe, far from demons… including, including you ‘cause my daughter’s quite a looker?”

Both elderly men of different eras shared a genuine chuckle, lifting the thickened tension away from them. Dante touched behind his head, strands slicked together by his bloody hair. Unfortunately, the gesture dismantled the peaceful ambiance they tried to create and settled back to its grim reality.

“If it’s in my power to do so, then I will. Is that all?”

“No. Promise me you'll bring Caramel Caroline’s faulty... corporation down. It’s ruining a lot of lives, you know.”

“Guaranteed, but it'll be a problem if she has a pretty face.”

“I’m sure you can conquer that obstacle along with that young problem over there as well.” Edward motioned with his chin to the other white-haired being. “Quite a mouth on him, I tell ya what.”

“Oh, he’s already getting his behind sautéed by me later. He’s got something coming to him, so don’t worry. He’s not the only one that’s been giving you any lip.”

The old man smiled, closing his eyes; he looked at peace with himself. Maybe he felt this burden lift off of him, able to leave this situation in capable hands, at least that’s what Dante assumed.

Even facing his own demise, Edward kept his emotions under a cool mask. He wasn’t pleading for his life or babbling into hysterics about death wrapping its claws around him. More than likely he remembered the positive and joyful times he went through, or thinking about how badly he fucked up.

The hunter placed a comforting hand on Edward’s shoulder, telling him everything was going to be okay from here on out.

“It’s only going to be okay if I get a chance to see my family again, but I doubt that-”

“Trust me, you will see them again.”

“How do you know? What makes you so sure?” Edward strained his eyelids open, hesitant to know the answer.

“The final good-bye... doesn't always stop at death.”

The crimson hunter almost face-planted on his way to the restaurant's bathroom, Nero rushing to his side after Dante's head dove under the sink, hitting the faucet coming down. Nero, in so many words, had to physically convince the elder to accept his assistance, roving a bit clueless why the injured man kept shoving him away.

“Cooperating with me will make this go a lot smoother.”

“Since when do you want to help or share anything?” Dante retorted, but allowed the runt to work his fingers through his locks.

Nero sported a grimace on his face, gently running both hands through Dante's scalp, washing away the browns and reds.

“Beats me. Maybe when I saw the back of your skull blown out? I think that did it.”

“So you wanted to help me but you didn’t need to?”

Is that a rhetorical question? “You just had to have help, okay?”

“Whatever you say, kid.”

“No, I mean it. Where would you be if I wasn’t right here on this mission with you?”

“Probably with my eardrums still intact―dammit!” Dante hissed through gritted teeth when the fledgling brushed his clawed fingers over the wound's outer edges.

“You did that on purpose.” Dante mumbled.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did.”

“Negative.”

“Positive.”

“... What are you Dante, twelve?”

“No, but I can act like it.”

“Like you are now?”

“I’m not acting twelve.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“… Okay, we need a shower or a sink. Either this basin is too small or your head is humongous. Leaving that scar open is messing with your mental capabilities.”

“And he uses big words, too!”

“See what I mean?”

Soft fingers wove through Dante's scalp, thinking to occupy the brat's thoughts with senseless chatter. His eyelids drooped, shivering at the comforting sensation. If the kid kept this up, he didn't doubt to fall asleep, taking a much needed nap.

As inviting as the idea sounded, he had to stay up long enough to trudge on home, to rejuvenate themselves and trek back tomorrow to rendezvous with the demonic inhabitants. That is if Nero replenished his vitalities.

“I saw a bigger sink in the kitchen. We should move there since it has more space.” Nero withdrew his hands from the white locks and moved towards the kitchenette, appreciating its old but clean appearance.

To the left of the youth resided the scented condiments and three deep fryers still bubbling with hot grease. Two stoves, four ovens built into the wall, two refrigerators, a large basin, and a silver rack upholding diversified skillets and pans sat to his right.

His hunger rose as the thought of food tickled his taste buds. Because no one stopped him, Nero decided to raid the fridge for a little snack.

Yet his appetite plummeted after he saw the contents held within.

A foul stench penetrated his nostrils, recoiling in disgust over the various oddly-shaped hearts sealed away in jars. Distinct stains of browns and reds spotted and stained its shelves.

“Did the old man know about this?” Nero wondered, taking in about seventy cases of the cardiac organs swamped in what looked like thick, orange liquid. Just exactly what were these things doing in here, and what were they used for? He doubted they used said flesh to cook meat with it, and it didn't...

A shirtless Dante walked over to the youth, Nero's saliva catching in his throat, hacking up his guts. Dante had the upper portion of his clothes off in the bathroom, but his back faced the youngster then. Now, he displayed his strong torso without shame, muscles stretching and rippling with his slow but steady walk.

Dante overall had a bulky, muscular frame but in no way did that hinder him in combat. Frankly, the added weight worked to his advantage. Wet droplets kissed his smooth, alabaster skin, doing nothing to deter the few warrior scars housing a permanent residence upon his body; the drips high-lighting those battle memories.

White tresses hung down heavily over the veteran's eyes; the section where his hair parted no longer visible, gazing at the coughing punk. When he waltzed into the kitchen, he smelled the unmistakable decay of rot in the fridge, hence why Nero had his hand over his nose.

Though, the twerp did not start hacking his lungs out until cerlueans laid sight upon him, which flattered him so. Chuckling lowly to himself, he went over to Nero and graciously patted his back.

“What's in your throat?” Dante asked, amusement tinging his voice.

“I-” He coughed. “I think I just ate a chili-cheese-” He coughed again. “-heart burger.”

“Eh, huh?”

“I think I ate a heart burger.” Nero thanked the opened fridge, using that as an excuse.

Dante looked from his counterpart to the open refrigerator, face impassive at the multitude of hearts in the icebox. There bound to be something gross placed in here, so it didn't bring forth much of a surprise. Personally, this run-down shack gave him the creeps and he wouldn't attempt to eat or drink anything from here. Too bad he forgot to mention the warning to Nero earlier.

“You're the one who loves trying out new shit.”

“Well... that was before I knew a bunch of hearts sat in the fridge!”

“Same thing in the freezer, a thing of hearts?” Dante moved towards the sink and turned the faucet to the left, grabbing some orange-scented dish washing liquid to aid in cleansing his skull.

“I don't think it matters at this point!” Nero's tone rose, hitting his chest with a fist to calm his breathing. He could use a drink of water or juice, but after seeing the contents within the icebox, he didn't want to ingest anything else in this place.

Curiosity got the better of him though, looking inside the freezer to find... beef. Packaged cutlets of various animals, or parts of them, lined the shelves; relief rolling through his being over his consumption of actual meat... safe meat, that didn't derive from a human's organs.

Consume. Regardless of the source.

His stomach churned, uncertainty dancing around his mind that the possibility could be true. And the notion his inner devil saying the first intelligent thing to him all day... okay the second.

Soft periwinkles took note of the kid's lightening complexion the longer he stood there. As much as he wanted to clown the partial-demon at his misfortune, they had to wrap up this little adventure just to come here tomorrow and repeat what they did today. “If it makes you feel any better, maybe you should go in there and do the super model diet trick.”

“... I'm not sure what that means, but I'll take a gander.” The teenager stuck his demonic forefinger down his throat to see if he and the elder agreed on something. When Dante nodded in approval, Nero jogged back to the bathroom, thinking to how he and Dante guessed on like terms, for once.

The hybrid stuck his head under the sink, turning to the left at an angle to let the water run over the gash. It provided no comfort, destined to hurt like a bitch once he put the soap in the gaping wound.

He ran his fingers through his scalp until he found the hole, lightly tapping around to dictate the torture he'd have to undergo. Make no mistake, he could take vast amounts of pain, it's just he wrangled to measure how much he had to administer to himself. In contrast, the anticipation made it worse when he expected the stinging.

A few feet away from him, dry heaving noises reached his ears, making choking sounds and trying to cough up ingested junk that might not be actual food. There stood a chance that Nero wasn't delighted in cannibalism, whereas the average demon would tear through the hearts without hesitation.

The sadistic urges rose every once in a while within Dante himself, but he knew how to curb those desires until he got his hands on something to quench it. The runt had his episodes too, except his were less severe, lacking demonic blood lessening his blood thirst.

Speaking of feeling a little sadistic...

Quiet steps crept up behind Nero, wet droplets jumping down his torso to situate himself to the youth's back; to help him along in his quest to purge the doubtful food.

His inner devil sought retribution after the punk dropped him on his head. He knew it wasn't intentional, but he wouldn't be in this situation, as badly, if his injury didn't clot over with dirt. So, cheers to the twat for pissing of his inside demon.

“It's hacking time!”

Nero only had a moment to breathe before Dante grabbed his jaw and held the bone open, sticking his long middle finger down his throat and keeping it there. The young slayer gripped the elder's hand in alarm, eyes welling up with water, choking through shortened breaths.

Nausea naturally took course in his belly, rousing the organ to eject the vile food from the safety of his stomach acids. He moved along in a calm atmosphere on his own until Dante dropped in and disrupted the ambiance he set up for himself.

Coughing, gagging, and burping sounds brewed together in a disturbing symphony, bodies twitching and jerking, dancing to the odd rhythm. His lungs begged to scream when the lengthy digit swayed in circular rotations, thumping against his uvula in a harsh manner the longer it stayed there.

“Here comes the sushi train,” Dante jested, removing his finger in time to let Nero's digested meal, along with chunks of the forgotten tamale, erupt into the toilet. Now that he thought about it, it seemed he would venture here solo tomorrow. The youth would probably bow under his rising sickness and it might be a good thing.

Taking missions alone maintained a mainstay in his life. Trish and Lady tag teamed with him, but they went their separate ways to complete solo missions. Nero lingered in the lone wolf category and he spent much of his years in solitude, in a socially inept society at that. Understandable, but inasmuch he had to learn to pull away from the excitement and assess the situation... or else he would end up bent over the john again.

The veteran reached up and flushed the toilet after the youth finished emptying his gut, patting the kid on his shoulder as his method of showing support. In secret, his inner devil triumphantly howled at the youth's dismay; his human side pressed a bit remorseful because now Nero's services were on hold for a few days.

A shaky hand grabbed a piece of toilet paper, wiping the remaining splatter off his lips, sitting back on his haunches to steady his breathing.

He heard the half-breed leave the bathroom, only to return again and tap something cold against his head. Glazed ceruleans rolled up, settling on a glass of water, along with the elder's creepy smirk.

The punk's hesitation confused the elder, turning it around each way to determine why the brat didn't want to take it. He had enough brain cells to wash the cup out before he filled it up with water, so it was safe to drink. All though, the water not being up to standards posed a problem...

“How do you know the water isn't contaminated?” Nero questioned in a gruff tone, skepticism dancing across his features, looking upon the cup as if it bubbled with acid. He pushed it away with a sneer.

“You really think it's tainted,” Dante said, raising a slim eyebrow to counter Nero's accusation.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Seems fine to me.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“I don't see nothing strange floating in here.” The hybrid brought the glass up to his nose and sniffed, detecting no foul play in the water.

“Then you drink it. Ain't no tellin' what that stuff is made out of.”

“Water, Nero? Really?”

“Yes, really, Dante.”

A deep sigh stretched Dante's lungs, bringing the cup up to his lips. A long tongue darted into the liquid, swirling it around in figure eights, eyes looking from side to side in absent focus. The water tasted like any other solvent from the faucet; a little metallic, dry, and rubbery.

Said glass could have spilled all over the partial-hybrid if his right hand connected directly into the halfling's crotch, but Dante caught the swinging arm in his grip.

“I wouldn't hit you in the balls.”

“What did you do that for?!”

“When?”

“Forcing me to throw up? What the hell, man?”

“Nothing came out. You just chucked up air... and it bothered my ears.” Dante set the glass down on the bathroom sink, turning around to head back to the kitchen to finish cleaning his wound. “Besides, you're the one forcing yourself to throw up by dry-heaving like that.”

The end part to his sentence fell on deaf ears, the youth zoning in on the smooth way the clothing style covered Dante's ass when he walked.

Dante's whole outfit materialized out of leather. A red trench coat, his belted hostler on his black shirt, chaps and shoes emerged as the staple of his work gear. Why he wore so much of it escaped Nero's judgment, but perhaps he needed to don it similar to Superman needing his cape. Maybe it acted as power source or something; if he didn't wear it he wouldn't feel so invincible.

A desirable confidence exudes from his clothing.

… Okay, so that detail he could agree on. The smooth material slimmed him everywhere while adding bulk in all the right places. His ass-less chaps purposely clouded him in an enigmatic aura . Like a mysterious darkness wrapped around the hybrid and the piece of red denim showing his ass warned people to stay away, all the while drawing you into his mystery.

A crimson trail pooled down the bottom of the elder's spine, prompting the teenager to shake away his daydream. Dante's nape turned scarlet again, telling him that one of them inhabited diminishing health.

“You're still bleeding?” Nero erected himself on wobbly legs, leaning against the door frame, letting his stomach settle from its nauseating rouse. An urge to hunch over the toilet surged the longer he stood there, but the need to help out his comrade exhibited a pressing matter. He wanted to make sure he didn't die on him and that hollow feeling returned, like a blooming friendship that withered and perished.

And he had no other way to get home.

The veteran reached his hand up and rubbed his neck, bringing his gloved finger forward to inspect the smeared, red substance. He looked at Nero and shrugged, positioning himself over the sink to rid of those problematic dirt spots.

Nero inhaled strong and deep, steeling his nerves to calm long enough to make sure the dope lived. He glanced back to the toilet, remembering the scene so vividly not less than a minute ago.

Nobody, family or friend alike, would violate his privacy to get something out of his system. His stomach progressed nicely at shooting up the dubious food without any boost. The quicker done the better yes, but he didn't feel right because Dante caught him in a state of vulnerability. Purging the meal should have improved his disposition, yet his health wasn't functioning at full capacity.

Ceruleans stared on in silence, wondering if he should go on and assist or let him suffer for catching him in surprise. As tempting the idea, it wasn't as appealing as watching him possibly dying; stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with rabid demons lurking in the town.

A/N: Sorry if the chapter seemed a bit...stopped, but all that writing made this chapter come out to 25 pages. The last chapter was 18 pages. From the last reviews, no one seemed to care that it was long, but I couldn't bring myself to let you guys read all that! So I broke it into two chapters and give it to you that way, lol. I know some stories on here that have 20+ pages to read in one setting, though!

It feels nice to get back into the swing of things, so lets hope that swinging will continue!
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Dreams Will Be Made Of These