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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
- 19
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Chapter 20: Wake Me When It's Over (Dante's POV)

The kitchen table housed the second heart jar, picking up the container before he stomped upstairs into Nero's room. When he opened the door his brows furrowed, peeved that the minty scent hadn't wavered out of there. Heavy feet marched over to the window, pulling it all the way open as a forceful breeze settled into the clean-smelling chamber.

The teen's sleeping quarters had undergone interior decorating changes the both of them (mainly Nero) decided it should have, though nothing too serious.

A full sized bed laid against the same wall the window rested. A brown dresser sat to its opposite side along with a wooden chair adjacent to it. Across from the bed was the closet, objects of varied trinkets stashed inside when nothing else had a place to go. A fresh coat of milky, white paint adorned the walls after they aged to a light beige color. Plenty of things needed an upgrade but as broke as his lifestyle made him, renovations didn't concern him. Especially now since his finances headed straight towards finding a new desk.

In actuality, he didn't give a fuck what his house looked like.

As long as he had a roof over his head and a dry area to retreat to when it rained, he didn't care what broke, leaked, cracked or fizzled. It's his abode and he could piss in the open if he felt inclined. If the kid wanted to add this or upgrade that then fine... staying away from his pockets though.

Curiosity got the better of him, striding to the closet, banging on it a few times to startle the youth awake. A lone eyebrow arched high into white hair upon opening the door, viewing the small but clean space stuffed with his... stuff. Books lined the upper shelf while some of his weapons resided on the ground. Last he remembered, everything toppled over each other without a second glance.

Is this―Nero did this in his spare time? Trying to get rid of his semi-OCD outbreaks by straightening the thing? It didn't bother him, really, because he refused to lift a finger. At the bottom of the storage lay a stuffed black and green duffel bag. Two sweaters hung from hangers and a pair of blue sneakers rested on the floor.

"Why is the duffel bag full?" he muttered with a sneer. After living in a certain place for some time, one intended to settle down with their surroundings. Nero inhabited more than that here, judging by the food, electronics, and small home furnishings he purchased over the months. The only rationale to keep a suitcase ready reposed an unexpected trip, and he created no trips where they would stay in the immediate future.

Nero didn't have to worry about the hybrid kicking him out since there lacked a reason to... unless he sided with Lady because she climbed to the top of his shit-list. In the meantime however, that sack isn't leaving anywhere and neither was the owner of the items in it. He picked up the tote, unzipping the zipper to let the clothes fall in a soft clump on the floor.

Incoherent mumbles tumbled from the youth's lips, tootsies sliding out to show wiggling toes beneath black socks. That little display reminded him of yesterday, when a specific someone moved his feet from its resting spot while he dozed away.

"Payback's a bitch, kid." He'd exert the same treatment to the brat that the runt gave him momentarily. He wanted him alert when he showed him his findings.

It's been almost eleven hours since he first fell asleep in the truck, and his demonic side should have knocked that sickness out already. Lazy periwinkles noticed those dark circles had disappeared, the bruise under his forehead lessening from its bold color. Eyelashes fanned out over pale cheeks, chest rising up then falling down deeply.

Nero wasn't waking up any time soon.

Impatience bit at his core, he used his thumb and forefinger to open Nero's left eyelid, staring straight into the enlarged pupil, asking him to get up.

Tempted. He withheld his temptation to blow a gush of wind into his eye and jump him awake but he restrained himself. It seemed too good to pass up the moment, yet he practiced effort to rouse him by more subtle means. He would try to.

Something bugged him about the teen's sleeping though.

Being the “breed” of their biological nature, they were "conscious sleepers”. Any subtle feeling or disruption in the atmosphere while asleep made them to tune into the change, albeit subconsciously, before waking up to investigate. It often came with the territory, constantly watching out for enemies who preyed on an opportunity to strike when guards are down.

He didn't know why the youth didn't wake up when a presence infiltrated his room, regardless if it's his or not. No matter how injured or how weak they were, if their surrounded environment had a hitch in it, they classified the interruption. Or it might've sustained that notion. Maybe Nero sensed nothing wrong in his vicinity, and he deemed his proximity safe to continue on with his rest.

Aww, how sweet. But he didn't care about that right now.

The teen warbled a bunch of mutters together in his slumber, the final word rhyming with something akin to knee, or maybe a key? Dante sighed, moving away from him as he shuffled to the jar to open it.

"Looks like someone is still asleep."

He took the heart out, turning it around so the gem in the middle shown in the dark room. "Dark room, eh?"

Some light needed to filter through the blinds, knowing it would wake the youngster up... if he wasn't burrowed within those covers to block those rays from hitting him.

The chieftain looked at the black sock, seeing the thing twitch twice before he grabbed the hem of it and pulled it off, exposing thin toes with lint in between them. He curled his hand into a half-fist, knuckles pointing at the front of Nero's foot before he drove the clenched fingers forward.

An abrupt jerk followed, preceded by more mumbling, ending with words said like "doesn't own me." To which the elder naturally responded with "Who doesn't own you?"

White bangs shook across his head, deciding the sickness had a little more kick than he imagined. Violating the teen's foot while he snoozed should make him awaken with his reflexes springing into action.

He stayed near the window this time, looking down and taking in the "pinkness" of the heart under the new light. Green and blue veins littered the muscle, the same purple liquid oozing out when taken from its amber home. So many of these things stood proud in that refrigerator, and even more venturing farther into town.

He discovered something specific there though, and he had a hunch that the fledgling, at one point, might know info on it. After all, he was affiliated with the Order of the Sword a while ago, right?

A strong breeze penetrated the room, prompting him to close the window a little as a small wave of birds started from their spot on the roof. Their wings knocked heavily against the air's current, scurrying to get away from the abrupt noise in the silent morning. A few minutes passed and the same sound echoed again, the feathered animals coming back to reclaim their position. The flying rats sounded huge with their hard feathers flapping.

The heart continued beating in his palm, looking at the abnormal vessel moving over to sit in the chair. Obviously another hand provided assistance in this; the operation proved way too successful.

Whenever a strange occurrence displayed itself in a neighborhood, word got out and the gossip eventually came to them. Never once did he go to a town and not sense a soul there. He stumbled upon ghost towns after the people moved out from a devastation, not because they were trapped in one.

His attention returned to the organ, focusing on the black stone stealing his interest. He wondered if it doubled as a weapon, or maybe the object contained a healing agent for the damned. Better yet, it could be a "heart" for demons. If they struggled on their last limb of existence, they can eat the vessel or some other weird shit, then they can be revitalized. However, he sustained his doubts about the smell.

Hearts, just like everything else on a body, decay and rot as time moves on. This beating muscle showed no signs of either, going strong as if it were in the healthiest stages of its vitality. Little pools of liquid ran down his hand, opening his nostrils to inhale the scent.

Blood has a natural coppery, metallic flavor to it and this thing endured an odorless presence. The fluid surrounding it must have acted as a protective seal, stopping its decay.

Hmm, what might happen should the gem come off?

Boots dragged on the floor until they stopped by the bed. Dante leaned over the sleeping beauty, using his right hand to land on the youth's shoulder, shaking him roughly a few times to wake him up. A change in breathing occurred before the youth continued on with his deep siesta.

Dante narrowed his eyebrows before repeating the same action, only rougher this time. When he saw no progress rewarding his actions he grunted, diving under the cover and pulling out the devil bringer to "use" it.

A lot of weird stuff went into and came out of that forearm, and more than once he exhibited enticement to ask Nero if he could borrow it as a storehouse. His own storage got a little crowded, and it may be a good idea to keep a few spare items in there. Hey, if the kid wanted or needed to, he can play with those gadgets for fun or on an enemy; a win-win scenario in his eyes. Despite the notion, he knew that Nero remained sore about his arm's appearance.

Well being "shy" didn't prosper in Dante's vocabulary, so if the twerp didn't want his arm, give it to him... somehow.

Perhaps that's the reason he felt so inclined to use it.

The heart changed its calm setting, increasing its beating tempo, or did it start performing normal? Two fingers tugged the black stone out and set it on the dresser, looking at the gem once before he placed the heart on the demonic palm.

Spilled, dark liquid lightened up to the familiar red, revealing its pungent odor. But is it a coincidence that the cardiac organ bled when he put it in his hand, or when he took the gem out? Shit, he should have waited a few more seconds to see what it did, but the devil bringer showcased itself for the taking since Nero's dead.

Dead asleep. Yes, Nero snoozed really hard and he'd be okay. He no longer suffered from an illness nor did he live on in a coma. Concussion yes, coma... no. They can catch colds but to fall into a complete sickness, nope. He'd be fine. Getting in all his rest topped his priority list because he got his ass tossed from demon to demon.

“If you'd listen to me from the get-go, then you wouldn't be in this situation.”

How odd is it that he slept so hard. He suffered an injury the teen couldn't even fathom of experiencing, pain-wise of course. The fledgling rolled around on the ground a couple times from attacks and he drowned into this heavy of a snooze?

A tongue stuck hard in the side of his cheek, folding Nero's hand in his and squeezing the heart tightly. Sanguine fluid gushed out of the valves, trailing down the partial-hybrid's arm; still snoozing like he had no care in the world.

Honestly though, the kid took a fall for the team, but this isn't serious. Waking him up in the most non-violent manner wore thin on his nerves with the lacking results. So, he had one more chance to awaken peacefully before the chieftain started fucking up his face.

All this time, the organ prevailed strong, pumping a little faster after the gem's removal. With a devilish glee glittering in his eyes, he placed the bleeding muscle right over Nero's calm heart, waiting on the youth to jump when the blood seeped into his t-shirt.

Nero remained oblivious.

Dante stood there expectantly, the shine in his eyes diminishing until a great annoyance replaced his happiness, seeping down into his core. This abided something he didn't know how to deal with; that wasn't common in his life and the only natural response pointed to treat the problem with violence. Isn't that the issue to resolve almost all of life's problems? It's not like he could regret his actions if the kid received a bunch of fresh marks to wake him up, but would he?

Raking his hands over his face, smearing more blood on him in the process, he steeled his determination before mumbling out, "I already do." He leaned over again lightly, finding a good spot to start whacking him when his willpower cracked a little, wondering if an ensnaring force "trapped" Nero in his forty winks because of the burger. Did the amber liquid have an affecting agent within and the symptoms trapped Nero in his slumber, as if he lived in a coma?

Well, that wasn't anything to set his mind on.

"Stop sleeping. Now." The hybrid bordered on physically rousing him when the hairs on his arm started to rise, jolts of awareness coming to the forefront as a familiar aura coursed throughout his body.

A dark, pure power he would know and feel as if it were his own. Blue light encased Nero, tendrils of white energy spiking the longer it progressed. Dante didn't want to imagine the worst happening, like the teenager fighting his way from his possibly enforced sack time, but triggering while asleep held an action he couldn't allow.

The devil-side exemplified a ferocious beast, the conscious psyche going into a controlled, subconscious state where it fed off of violent energies. Through patience and dedication he gained control of his, at times, and effectively terminated the source of his aggravation. Nero on the other hand released his at the slightest provocation.

Dante threw his fist down, effectively punching Nero on the side of his cheek, stopping the triggered transformation. The punch hit hard enough to stop it from occurring but not to the point of leaving any permanent damage, he hoped. The youngster's face twitched in response, mouth opening with his breathing changing.

He moved over to the chair, taking the heart with him and plopped down in it, needing a moment to think about what he just saw, yet it would be even better if Nero woke up to explain himself. Triggering while asleep endured a dangerous maneuver; the devil had the ability to control his mind and have a field day enacting vile, sadistic actions. If the kid fought an internal battle then he could understand, albeit the notion seeming a bit stupid because this whole 'sickness' thing could've been avoided.

The sanguine scent pummeled his nostrils, snorting quietly despite the air flowing through the window. Soon after, something started stirring beneath a green comforter, to which Dante immediately looked away from... and grew angry.

After banging on a door, calling out to him, opening the window, talking to him, slapping him, grabbing him, shaking him, putting a heart on his chest, pulling his eye open... after doing all of that shit, now came the time he decided to join the world of the living? Awakening all peaceful as if there weren't any bad dreams or poison keeping him in his snoozing state? Nothing troubled him at all? Those loud ass sounds didn't even make him flinch?

Dante shifted his eyes over to the partial-hybrid, seeing him with his back against the wall, doubt and confusion mingling with the scent of the room. He spent a lot of energy trying to awaken him in the most sensible manner, and a weak snort did the trick?

Canines enlarged inside his mouth, running a tongue over them with self-restraint, incensed over that simple sound awakening him from his endless slumber... and the urge to willingly put a few more scars on him. He should be happy that Nero lived, but he couldn't help the feeling of being played. That wasn't the case after he saw firsthand the youngster's deteriorating health, but what he just went through felt like a testing patience. He hoped Nero got all the rest in the universe, because he probably wasn't going to sleep like that again until the target has been silenced.

A/N: Okay, I hope I don't lose any of you in this. Though I should only give you guys the correlation between a couple of them.

1. When Nero heard the knocking/banging sound in his sleep, it was Dante hitting the closet door and moving around the room purposefully making noise

2. When Nero asked where was Dante's "key" in la-la land, Dante heard him say "key" so he knew that he was still delirious and responded as such.

3. Remember Nero hitting his foot on the bed? That was actually a response to Dante punching his foot.

4. The sound of wings flapping in Nero's sleep was the result of the birds flying away when Dante opened up the window, and then coming back later.

5. Nero getting flung around like a doll in his dream was the action of Dante roughly shaking him in his sleep in the real world.

Do you guys get it now? Like the specific things that occurred in Nero's dreams were the actions that Dante did to him to get him to wake up. You know how you set the alarm at night, and if you are having a dream, you can hear the alarm ringing in your dream before you wake up? And then the other things( not able to look in the mirror and the Fault) blame it on the sickness.
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Dreams Will Be Made Of These