Warnings: Homosexual Pairing (NxDxN), Strong Language, Violence, Blood/Gore

Disclaimer: I do not own DMC4, and I make no money from this story.

A/N: this is going to be a nasty piece of writing. If you are not into the violent, bloody type of fiction, if you prefer some fluffy, sappy stuff hit the back arrow. - still here? oh well, guess I can't scare you huh? let's see...

- A huge thank you Blood of Dusk for helping me with this story.

Prologue

The night Trish called would be engraved into Nero's memories for the rest of his life. The women he remembered as Gloria until he had caught a short glimpse of her true form, standing behind Dante in front of the Savior, had offered him little of an overdue greeting after nearly half a year of silence between Fortuna and Capulet City. But it was the sound of worry and fear in her voice that made him forget about that little detail. "What happened?" He asked before she could even begin to persuade him to come. She had him as soon as he knew who she was. And he knew this was not a social call.

That night, he left a note for Kyrie explaining that he went to see Dante, and even though she shouldn't worry about him, he couldn't give her the date of his return. Nero knew she would understand. Kyrie had a gentle soul, and she had been the first to notice his kind nature that caused him to aid everyone in need even though he tried his hardest to hide that side of him sometimes.

"I can't explain right now. There is no time. Nero, I need you here in Capulet. Please, there is no one else I could ask." He took the ferry at sunrise, her voice still fresh in his mind.

While Dante had paid him a few short visits after their encounter with Sanctus to check on how things were going, as he had said it, Nero had never been to Capulet City in return. Things had been too busy for him to leave. The city was still virtually lying in ruins, and he still had demons to hunt which were wandering the city boarders and the remaining forest that was slowly dying without the influence of the gate.

As soon as Nero reached the outskirts of Capulet City, he called Trish to ask her for directions for the shop he knew Dante owned there. It took her a while to answer the phone, and Nero had already feared he had the wrong number. When she finally answered, he could hear noise in the background like furniture being demolished and angered, muffled screams. They made his skin crawl with goosebumps as he recognized the voice as Dante's.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised her.

"Yes, please hurry." And the line was disconnected.

Capulet City was huge in comparison to Fortuna but Nero took no time to admire the buzzing city. His mind was preoccupied. He almost missed his turn at the next corner that would lead him to the northern part of the residential area. His bike roared in protest, tires screeching as he cut off another car to make the turn. The angry sounds of horns followed him down the road, but he paid them no mind. Nero didn't mind breaking some rules. He had the tendency to speed, and his fast reflexes inveigled him to push his trustworthy, customized Harley to its limit. It had never let him down so far.

He ran the directions again through his head. Down the main street, right turn at the pool bar, left at the next traffic light and again right at the liquor store. Follow the 66 Slum Avenue until you reach the shop at the end. Slum Avenue it was, and it lived up to its name. The further he came, the more uninviting his surroundings became. He spotted the pink neon sign at the end and knew he had finally reached his goal. The ambiguity of what would await him left Nero anxious. He felt his heart racing.

How long had it been since he had seen the older hunter the last time? Six months, maybe more. A lot had happened in the meantime. More than once he had thought about calling Dante, but he had never done so. He couldn't bring himself to do it since he had been afraid the older male would catch on to the things Nero wanted to keep hidden—the things between them.

The Harley came to a smooth halt in front of the shop, and Nero sat back and listened. He picked up the disturbing presence of demons. Two of them, at least, he guessed by the slight tremble in his Devil Bringer. One somehow familiar but not so much that he could place the feeling at first guess. Trish, he concluded. The other one, he had no idea. It was disturbingly powerful though - threatening.

Nero got off his bike and made his way to the door. Still no sound. He didn't like that. Red Queen rested encouragingly on his back, her weight intimate to his mind. He reached out and pushed the double doors open with his Devil Bringer. His left hand grabbed Blue Rose, ready to face whatever awaited him there.

Blood—the unmistakable smell of fresh blood assaulted his olfactory centre like an onslaught. The shop reeked of it, and it made Nero press the back of his right hand under his nose, and he took a deep breath through his mouth instead. "Gosh…" His eyes darted around the reception area. The floor was covered in dark spots and smears of the still red, shiny liquid that would soon turn into auburn stains. He could see some charred marks which had been close to starting a fire inside the building but luckily never had passed the smoldering stage. Bullet holes, lots of them, caused by heavy guns: guns like Dante's.

He remembered Ebony and Ivory, the two twin guns of the older devil hunter. He had admired them every time he laid his eyes on them. Dante had customized them until they no longer found an equal, and Nero had wished more than once to know the secret of upgrading such powerful weapons. He had learned to infuse his own shots with the power his Devil Bringer possessed, but he still needed bullets—lots of them.

His careful steps stopped in the middle of the room as he spotted Rebellion. The broadsword was stabbed deep into the floor right next to the staircase, its blade smeared with blood. Nero strode over and reached for the grip, though a loud sound from downstairs made him stop. It came from the basement. Nero focused his keen hearing. Growling—deep throated inhuman growling and the rattle of chains. "No you won't! Not again!" Trish's voice. Now that he had found what he was looking for, Nero hurried his steps to join the blond demoness.

"Trish," he called. The basement of Dante's shop was unexpectedly huge. Two large rooms with sparse light provided by one bare dirty light bulb on each ceiling. The first room was stuffed with boxes and other things that apparently had no room in the shop but were too valuable to get rid of. The second was almost bare. Nero could see a single shelf at the far end with books and jars, candles and other occult things. It smelled like sulfur and herbs in there. And blood.

"Nero—thank god you made it!" And there she was. Trish had turned around to the sound of his voice, relief written all over her face. She looked exhausted, he noticed—that, and worried. Her clothes were ripped and dirty, drenched in blood. And then he saw the cause of it; behind her slender frame stood Dante. Nero suppressed a gasp that threatened to leave his mouth. The older hunter stood with his back against the wall, his hands chained above his head by a curious looking weapon. It had a blue glow to it, a tripartite nunchaku that radiated an unnatural cold that left a thin layer of frost on the captured hunter's wrists. Dante didn't speak, for the piece of cloth that had been forced into his mouth and knotted behind his head prevented him from forming coherent words. He, too, was covered in blood, and although Nero knew of the ability of rapid healing that Dante and Trish possessed, he could imagine the extent of wounds needed for this kind of bloodshed. It must have been a fierce battle between the two of them.

"What happened?" He took a step closer, facing Dante. The older hunter looked at him with gleaming eyes. His lips pulled back in a snarl around the cloth, causing wrinkles between his eyes. He growled again. "Fuck, Dante. Don't snarl at me. It's just me, old man." That caused the trapped hunter to pull at his chains as if he intended to bring the wall behind him down in the process. Nero narrowed his eyes, unsure what to say.

"He can't hear you," Trish said coldly. "That's not Dante anymore."

"What?" Shock as well as disbelief made his voice sound harsh.

"Come—we don't have much time." That said, she turned on her heels and led Nero upstairs again. He closed the door behind him. If the demon inside Dante's body would get free in their absence, he would notice it even if he wasn't in the same room. His ears would pick up the sound. If not, the possessed hunter still had to pass by them(pass them by?) if he intended to flee. Right now Nero needed some answers.

"Are you alright?" He watched her almost collapsing onto the now ripped up sofa. Trish looked tired, not only physically but also emotionally.

"Yes, I'm okay. Don't worry. He didn't get me," she reassured.

He remained standing, too agitated to sit down. Nero crossed his arms in front of his chest, weight shifting to one leg and, after a moment, restlessly back to the other. He could hear Dante downstairs again. The older hunter growled and thrashed against his bindings.

"Tell me what happened," the young half demon said.

"We still don't know for sure. It happened two days ago on a job. We teamed up—Dante, Lady and I. It sounded easy enough. Track down a group of demons at the area around the Temen-ni-gru and get rid of them. Well, we found them. Maybe ten or twelve demons hidden in human form. The weaker ones shed the skin of their victims almost immediately, and we killed them. The leader was another story though. We had to hunt him across the area and almost lost him when Dante finally confronted him. They fought, and you know Dante. He told us to stay out of it… that he wanted to finish it alone." A faint smile spread onto her dry lips, and Nero frowned but let her continue. "We let him, and even though he got injured, it wasn't anything serious. He killed the demon, but, then, he changed all of a sudden. Lady noticed it first and asked him if he was alright. That's when he attacked her. You don't know her yet, but although she is a human, she can usually take care of herself. Nevertheless, Dante got her in the end and broke her leg. We managed to capture him. This afternoon, he got free from his chains, but I managed somehow to chain him back up. That's not Dante down there, Nero. If it was him, I wouldn't have been able to take him down alone. He fights differently from how he used to, and even though it's his voice, it's not him who is talking. That demon must have him under some kind of spell… Or worse: possessed him."

"Possession?" he asked, clearly worried. He had never encountered demonic possession before. He thought he had when he first had to face Credo, but he soon realized that the man he had once called brother suffered from his own twisted ego and not some kind of demonic spell.

"I must do some research on this, but I can't leave him alone. I'm sorry to ask you this, Nero, but I need you to watch him. He is dangerous, so don't let your guard down around him. You're the only one I could ask." He had known that the moment she had called him. He wouldn't let her down.

"Don't worry about it. I'll stay." His head turned back to the door leading down into the basement. It had become suspiciously quiet down there.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I have a personal score to settle with the old man anyway. So count me in." Trish nodded and stood up again.

"I'll check on him later. Hopefully, I'll find something until then. Remember: don't let him get to you. He might not be Dante right now, but he sure is powerful." He knew she was right about that. Whatever they had trapped down there in the basement, it was powerful enough to make his Devil Bringer tremble in anticipation.