A/N: Motivation for this story was real strong from the start! It was one of those stories that once you just sit down and start, you don't stop until you have the whole thing finished. I loved writing this story myself, especially in describing the stupid situations that Dante forces his brother into, and how Vergil maintains his cool head, pretending to not care when it is obvious he is the one setting everything straight.

Pic Credits: User KotNarKot on zerochan.net 

[The Devil's Little One]

Vergil had been waiting for this day since he started living with his brother, and was in fact rather surprised that it had taken a total of five years for Dante to come home with bad news and a sour face. He made sure to compose his face well as his brother stood in front of the desk that he was currently sitting at in Devil May Cry, perusing over a gun magazine and wondering why a half-demon like Dante still wanted to spend money on such weapons when they could simply use their summoned swords for long-ranged needs.

"I fucked up, Vergil." Dante declared unhappily, frowning down at his brother as if it was Vergil's fault that things happened.

"That isn't news, Dante." Vergil answered calmly, looking up at his brother over the top of his magazine.

"I'm serious this time. I fucked up badly." Dante insisted, sending a frustrated hand through his white hair.

"What is it this time, Dante?" Vergil gave up trying reading the magazine now that Dante had found a temporary seat at the corner of the desk, obviously not about to leave until Vergil gave up to be his listening ear. "What have you done this time? Brought more trouble to Lady? Lost your weapons? Pissed off the wrong demons? Sold the office?"

"Worse." Dante's morose reply actually got Vergil a little worried for the shortest moment. "I got a woman pregnant."

Vergil stared at his twin brother in silence, then simply went straight back to his magazine as if Dante had never spoken at all, flipping back to the page that he had stopped at, continuing to read as if the conversation had closed on a satisfactory conclusion.

"What the fuck, Vergil! Give me some form of a response! Help me out of this!" Dante protested, leaning across the desk and grabbing the magazine out of his twin brother's hands.

"There's nothing to help you out with, Idiot." Vergil answered calmly, snatching the magazine back. "You created this mess yourself. You clean up your own ass."

"It was a mistake! I was drunk!"

"I've seen you do this for more the past five years that I've spent here, Dante. You having a kid is really not something I'm surprised that you end up with. Having sex without protection; I'm just surprised that it took you so long for your little things to get to the egg."

"Because I trained them not to get the egg! But one of them just had to do it." Dante protested.

"Well," Vergil could not help his smirk this time, "I guess rebellion is a particular streak that I'm sure you are familiar with."

"Not funny." Dante crossed his arms now, looking expectantly to his brother for help. "What now?"

"What else? If the woman doesn't want to abort the baby, and doesn't want to raise the child, then it's going to be you, Daddy Dante." Vergil answered with a straight face, but grimaced in a quick moment, spitting as if he had just tasted something extremely bad. "Damn, I can't believe I had the saliva to say those two words together."

"If I'm stuck with a kid, Vergil, then you're stuck with us too!"

"I don't seem to remember there being a contract of any sorts binding me to this place." Vergil answered, idly flipping his magazine open again. "Now do try not to trip over your own legs as you tell your woman what your decision is, Little Dante."

It was a day that was expected in Vergil's calendar, and it had finally come: that one day in which Dante would finally get a woman pregnant.

________________________________________________________________________________

Vergil was in the middle of collecting the payment for a rather big-scale job at the next town when he received a phone call from an unknown number. A little suspicious, but never one to give up the possibility of a well-paying job, Vergil picked up the phone, only to find his own voice through the phone, sounding panicked and helpless.

"You've got to help me out, Vergil. I'm in big trouble." Dante rushed to say in the phone.

"What now? Where are you?" Vergil sighed. Really, sometimes he hated the fact that he had been born minutes before his idiot brother, making him the older one between the two of them and traditionally the one who should be helping out his little brother whenever Dante was in trouble, which was often as hell.

"I'm at the hospital..." Dante started, and Vergil quickly understood what the bustle of noise in the background meant.

"What happened? Don't tell me you got so badly injured that you need human doctors."

"It's worse than that." Dante's reply actually got Vergil worried for the shortest moment right there. "I don't know what to name my son."

Vergil didn't wait for another word to be said before he hung up, pocketing his phone as he took a quick cursory look into the bag of money that he had just collected. Unfortunately for him, this money wasn't going to stay in his hands for much longer, because it would always be spent in welfare for his little brother –which involved paying for the bills of the office, and sponsoring Dante's pizza diet.

Vergil didn't have to wait for long before his phone rang again, and he picked up this time without having to look at the screen to know that it was the same number that had called just a moment ago.

"What the hell, Vergil! Give me some response! Help me out here! They're asking me for a name!"

"He's your son, Dante." Vergil answered, sighing noisily to make sure that his brother heard him through the phone. "Children's names these days are crazy. Just give your son some stupid name and be done with it. He's the one suffering for the rest of his life; not you."

"I can't think of anything off the top of my head! Give me some suggestions, Vergil, I beg you."

Vergil rolled his eyes in disbelief. This guy was trying to be a father? The first job Dante was to do for his son... and he was already looking for help.

"Bob." Vergil suddenly grinned.

"Bob Sparda?" Dante spluttered through the phone. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You asked me for a suggestion. John. Dick."

"Dick-fucking-Sparda? Not funny, Vergil. Help me out!"

It wasn't as if Vergil had been spending time thinking about a name for his nephew as well. Then again, he wasn't sure why he had expected Dante to spare more brain cells thinking about their newest addition to the family than him. It was obvious that Dante was not very inclined to having the child, but having no other choice anyway.

He looked around the street for any sort of inspiration and found his on the street name.

"Draven."

"Great. Thanks. I'll call you back in a while with updates." Dante finally seemed satisfied, and this time it was the first-time-father that hung up on the phone.

Vergil didn't even get a chance to tell Dante not to bother, shrugged his shoulders and continued down the street, thankful as hell that he had come to Draven Street to collect his money. If it had been a street with a stupid name, then he would probably be stuck calling that name for as long as his nephew lived.

________________________________________________________________________________

"What in the world is happening back there? It sounds like he is going through World War Three." Vergil finally could not stand the din of screaming and crying from a baby, slamming down his magazine as he left his seat to venture into the backroom that had been turned to young Draven Sparda's room, where all the baby supplies were stocked up.

"Call the police, call the ambulance and the fire brigade! I need help with this thing!" Dante exclaimed as soon as Vergil stepped into the room, stepping towards where Dante was trying his best to handle his screaming and wailing son, but failing pretty badly.

"What is this?" Vergil could not help but demand of his brother as soon as he neared the table, a pile of mess there. "I thought you were just changing his diaper?"

"I was trying to, and then he peed on me when I was trying to clean him up!" Dante protested, and Vergil took to note that his brother was a little wet from his son's pee.

"Then explain his shit all over the table."

"I might have jerked a little in surprise when he peed, and the shit flew." Dante at least answered honestly, but Vergil didn't even understand how this man was supposed to be a father. They were already six months into this, and Dante still didn't know how to change his son's diaper.

It had been alright for the past five months because Vergil had managed to get a babysitter kind enough to understand Dante's situation, and poor Draven's lack of a female in the family. The babysitter had been the one caring for young Draven until a week ago when she resigned because she needed to go back to her country for family affairs. There had been no way to keep her, and the notice had been a little too short for Vergil to find a replacement babysitter fast enough.

To be rather honest, it was hard to invite anyone over to Devil May Cry since it was rumoured to attract demons since it belonged to a pair of demon hunters. Even if the job meant taking care of an innocent young six-month old, not many people dared to step into the office at all.

"You are completely hopeless. Have you learnt nothing at all in the past six months?" Vergil nudged his brother aside, picking the soiled diaper up pinched carefully between his fingers and dropping it in the dustbin beside the table. Wiping the table quickly with a pair of paper towels, Vergil got a clean diaper out, hell-bent on ignoring the wailing of a baby that had soiled himself, but was dealt with an incompetent idiot for a father.

Cleaning the baby's bottom with as much genteel as a man like him could possibly do, Vergil made sure that at least Draven was nicely cleaned in his important areas first before doling on a fine amount of baby powder before wrapping the poor kid up in his diaper. He was not surprised at all to find Draven nicely asleep after he was done, comfortable enough in his clean-state to fall asleep after all that energy wasted screaming and crying.

"And that's how you change a diaper." Vergil announced, turning to his wide-eyed brother.

"H-How did you...?"

"Watching the babysitter do the same thing for the past five months; it ingrained into my memory. But I guess your brain capacity is too small for something like this." Vergil answered, picking up the sleeping baby and carefully placing Draven back in his cot, watching as the six-month old curl up instinctively towards the warm blankets. "Now clean up the mess on the table nicely. Disinfect the table from Draven's shit, or he might get an infection the next time you put him there."

"Can I at least change my clothes first? Draven's pee smells." Dante whined as Vergil made for the door of Draven's room, intent on getting back to his magazine.

"Am I dealing with one baby or two here?" Vergil demanded. "It's time for you to be a father, Dante. You'd better learn a thing or two about your son before he grows up enough to realize how bad a father you were. It's not too late to do something."

"I don't need to. He has you!" Dante's words chased Vergil out of the room, but he didn't bother giving his brother the satisfaction of a reply of any sorts. Besides, Vergil had been intently reading an article on the magazine, and had been learning new things before he was rudely disturbed by Draven's screams. It was time to go back.

Vergil made for the desk and picked up the magazine again, beginning once more to learn what kind of nutrients that babies needed to grow up fast and strong.

With a father like Dante, Draven definitely needed to grow up faster.

________________________________________________________________________________

Vergil regretted wishing that Draven would grow up fast, because once the boy started trying to talk and walk, it made his troubles ten times worse. Draven was his twin's offspring, and that itself answered for many questions.

Draven was basically anyone's worst nightmare. A toddling, blubbering mess that learnt to crawl and then toddle too fast for his age. Draven didn't bother much with crawling, and with guts as big as his father's, the young boy had been toddling and running around within three days of starting to crawl. Then, as if that wasn't enough, Draven's vocal cords had grown fast, and had inherited his father's penchant for loud noises, blubbering nonsense at the top of his voice, squealing and basically spluttering with incomprehensible sounds wherever he toddled.

Vergil could no longer peruse through his magazines without his nephew running all over the office.

Vergil sighed once more when Dante finished changing Draven's diaper, and set the young one on his feet. Almost immediately, the young one zoomed out of his room, and appeared in the office, screaming in glee as he explored the place like it was his whole world for the hundredth time. Apparently Draven's brain unfortunately grew at the same rate as his father's, because even after exploring the same office for a hundred times, Draven still blindly toddled straight into the desk.

Vergil watched silently as the child bounced off the desk, falling quickly on his butt and hands pressed against his forehead. Draven's face screwed up, and in less than a second, stupid blubbering had turned into an alarm's wail as the child screamed.

"What the fuck? I just changed his diaper! What's he crying about now!" Dante shouted from the backroom, doing nothing helpful except for adding to the noise level in the room.

"He hit his head on the desk." Vergil answered calmly. "Just let him cry until he realizes that no one is going to pamper him up just because he hurt a little."

"Spartan training." Dante commented in a tone that sounded distantly like approval. "I guess it's a good life lesson for him. He's going to have to learn sooner or later that not everyone is going to be there cooing at him when he hurts."

"It is quite unfortunate that Mum never allowed you that same lesson ever." Vergil answered above the loud crying. "You're still a cry baby, Dante."

"What the hell?" His twin's exclamation was the only reply made, and Vergil smiled in satisfaction as he reached across the desk for a facial tissue, then reached down to wipe the tears and snort running down Draven's face roughly. Tough love was something Draven was slowly coming to get used to, and thus the young one slowed his tears and toned down on his crying as he looked up to Vergil.

"Dadadabababababa..." The nonsense gibberish started once more, and Vergil simply hid his smile and went back to his magazine. It was soon that Dante came out from cleaning the room, scooping his toddling son up and setting the both of them on the couch for some careful father-son bonding session that involved Dante playing mock-punches, tickling the young one and trying to teach the child to speak.

Settled that at least one adult was watching over the young one, Vergil returned to his magazine once more and perused through the list of kindergartens nears the neighbourhood that were semi-prestigious and boasted a good-enough curriculum for his nephew.

It was a short while after that Vergil realized that it had gotten strangely quiet –a quiet that he had learnt to give up trying to achieve as long as Draven was around the house. A little surprised but not yet alarmed, Vergil closed his magazine to find Dante still on the couch, but busy texting on his phone.

"Where is Draven?" Vergil asked, looking casually around the room.

"That little thing?" Dante asked, looking up from his phone, obviously his mind still far away. "Somewhere on the floor."

"Floor where?" Vergil swept his eyes over the office once more, this time a little more curious. "He's usually making a lot of noise. Why is it so quiet now?"

"Oh yeah." Dante remarked, as if just realizing the silence that they had previously been sitting in. "He could have fallen asleep."

"Or he could have walked out the office." Vergil frowned. "I thought you were looking after him. I took my eyes off him for a moment because you were with him."

"Well, I got tired, and a text came in!"

"Then at least keep him with you!" Vergil couldn't really believe his brother as he stood up, looking around more carefully now. But it was quickly appearing that there was no Draven sprawled out asleep on the floor anywhere in the office. Vergil checked the backroom, the kitchen and even upstairs in their bedrooms but there was simply no toddler sleeping in any place.

"Anything?" Dante met his twin brother at the bottom of the stairs, finally looking a little worried.

"No Draven." Vergil answered honestly with a shake of head. "I'll check the outside. You scan the place one more time. If we get nothing, we're calling the police on a missing baby."

"Got it." Dante answered, definitely trusting his twin brother to come up with the best solutions. Vergil didn't bother putting his coat on as he rushed outdoors, searching the perimeters of the building of Devil May Cry briefly. He didn't really believe that his nephew would really be brave enough to just walk out of the building that Draven's life had revolved in, but then again, Draven was Dante's son. There was simply no saying what character traits that Dante had given his son, but if extreme courage and bravery was one of it, then the two of them were dealing with a missing baby case on their hands.

Vergil rushed back to the office after having reached the end of the street to see no little Draven toddling anywhere, intent on having Dante call the police. They might be half-demons, but even they needed the extra pairs of eyes finding a missing toddler.

"Vergil! Anything?" Dante was finally panicked now –the makings of a true father finally beginning to show on Dante's face –when Vergil came back through the double-doors of the office.

"Nothing." Vergil's one-word reply made Dante's face pale, but before either of them could reach for either of their phones, a sound came.

A muffled sound of crying.

Never had Vergil been more relieved to hear his nephew crying.

"Dadadadadada! Wahhh!" The blubbering paired with crying was still muffled, but both the Sparda brothers had gotten into their investigative modes, relying on their ears now as they took their steps slowly and quietly around the office to search for the source of the noise. Unspoken understanding made Vergil sweep the right side of the office, and Dante sweep the left.

"WAHH!" The crying came a little louder as Vergil neared the cupboard, and everything clicked quickly.

Swinging the doors of the cupboard open, the crying immediately became clear as Vergil saw the son of Dante curled up in the shoe cupboard, sitting beside his father's boots and crying his eyes out. Big marble blue eyes looked up at Vergil the moment he opened the door, and arms reached out immediately towards his uncle.

"DADADADA!" The child screamed, obviously frightened out of his wits, and this time even Vergil had no heart to let the child stop crying on his own. Picking up the young boy in his arms and Vergil put the young one against his chest as he turned around to face the relieved father.

"Naughty Draven!" Dante hit the child lightly on his hand in a show of mock-anger. "Don't go around hiding in dark corners without telling Daddy!"

"DADA!" Draven wiped his own cheeks in the same way Vergil had done just earlier in the afternoon, except without paper towels. "Dan-Day! Dan-Day, Dada!"

"Dan-Day?" Dante blinked with surprise for a short moment at the new word blubbering from his son's mouth. "What's Dan-Day?"

"Dan-Day, Dada, Dan-day, Dan-day!" Draven repeated with increasing joy, apparently not needing much comforting at all.

"What does it sound like to you?" Vergil sighed, not believing how his brother was lacking an important understanding. "Dan-Day?"

"Bah-Beel. Bah-Beel. Baba." Draven started again, and this time Vergil could not help but laugh aloud once.

"Bah-Beel! Bah-beel! Dan-day. Dan-day." Draven chanted now, looking between his father and uncle as if getting the different reactions written on their faces entertained the child very much so. "BAH-BEEL! DANDAY!"

"Is he..." It finally sank in, as Vergil set the young one on his feet, but Draven simply stood where he was, jumping up and down and waving his hands around.

"Who else sounds like a Dan-day to you?" Vergil answered his brother's unfinished question, laughing.

"Then... you're 'Bah-beel'?" Dante clarified, clearly getting more and more amused the more his son repeated the two names.

"One and only, Dan-day." Vergil replied.

Draven had grown up fast, but it was only going to get faster from here on out.

________________________________________________________________________________

Seven year old Draven Sparda sat alone in the middle of the office of Devil May Cry crying his eyes out when Vergil returned home from a small job. The young boy had already grown up past the age for crying for his small discomforts, and Vergil had learnt in the years that Draven Sparda was –like his father –someone who could take pain well. That meant that little bruises or wounds wouldn't bring the boy to tears.

And it also meant that Draven was crying about something else that Vergil didn't know about –and something that he wasn't very inclined to want to know about. He had watched over his nephew until Draven was old enough to take care of himself, and while that had built some form of relationship with the young one, Vergil was currently tired and looking forward to a cold shower and a nap.

A cold shower and a nap was something that his nephew wasn't about to give him, because Vergil hadn't taken a few steps further into the office before Draven picked himself up to his feet and ran colliding into his uncle, hugging Vergil's legs together and crying.

"Where is Dante?" Vergil asked, not wanting to ask the boy what happened, because he knew it would be up to him to solve the child's problem if he asked it. Instead, if he could get Dante to listen to his son's problem, then Dante could be the hero of young Draven's eyes. Hopefully.

"Dad is upstairs with a horrible woman!"

Horrible woman? Vergil repeated the words in his head, wondering who it was that had taught his nephew the vocabulary to describe a customer.

"You know better than to call a customer 'horrible'. As long as she's paying, we have to work to feed and keep you." Vergil peeled his nephew from his legs, pushing the crying child away when Draven fought to glue himself back on Vergil again.

"Uncle Vergil!" Draven cried, trying to chase the man who was making his no-nonsense way to the stairs with the clear intention to take a good shower and nap. "She's a bad woman! You cannot go upstairs, or she'll say bad things about you too!"

"Bad things about me?" Vergil repeated aloud this time, pausing at the foot of the stairs and looking back at his nephew, who had been dragged across the office by pulling and holding on to Vergil's coat. "Why would she say bad things about me? Who is she?"

"I don't know..." Draven sniffled, the snot running down but still refusing to let go of Vergil's coat. "But she said bad things about Dad and Mum!"

"She knows your mother?" Vergil's curiosity was perked now as he turned around physically, looking down at his sniffling nephew who seemed to be on the verge of using the hem of his coat to wipe away the snot and tears.

"I don't think so..." Draven blinked wet eyes at his uncle, obviously glad that someone was giving him the due attention that he needed. "But she said that Dad is a bad person! She said he kills people for fun and gets money for killing people and destroying homes. She said Mum was a horrible woman also! She said Mum took Dad's money and ran away, and that Mum is a whore!"

It was pretty obvious that Draven couldn't possibly be the originator of those words, and a small frown hung on his lips when Vergil squatted down to be on level with his nephew, taking Draven by his small shoulders.

"Do you even know what a whore is?"

"I don't know, but she said it like it was a bad thing!" Draven cried, rubbing his eyes.

"Then what did you think your mother was like? What did your father tell you about her?" Vergil asked, realizing with surprised that his nephew had never asked him about the missing mother figure in their family. Draven was in his curious years, where almost every question started with a 'why'. Why didn't Draven have a mother was something that Vergil had expected the young one to start asking early in his years, but Vergil had never been confronted with that question ever before.

"Dad said that Mum was an angel! She came down from the skies one day, and then they kissed, and they slept together. And then the next day, Mum disappeared, and I was there sleeping beside Dad!" Draven answered, still half-crying.

Vergil sighed in disbelief and resignation. While he understood that Dante didn't want his son to feel abandoned or hated because his mother didn't want to stay around taking care of him, Dante didn't have to tell the young one such a ridiculous story about his mother. An angel? Seriously, what had Dante been smoking before he came up with this story to tell the young one?

"Draven, do you remember what I told you about people with the blood of Sparda?" Vergil started on another topic again, looking carefully into the ice blue eyes of young Draven Sparda. The young one had inherited his father's eyes, but there was just a hint of something different; something that probably belonged to the child's mother that Vergil had never met for even a single moment. In terms of unfamiliarity towards the mother of his nephew, he was not closer to an image of a woman than Draven was.

"Y-Yes... You said that people with the blood of Sparda don't cry. They are children of a legendary man, and that they are gifted in many special ways. So they shouldn't be crying because they have abilities that make them strong." Draven reported.

"Then are you a Sparda?"

"Y-Yes..." The boy sniffled and hiccupped, wiping and rubbing his eyes but visibly calming down from his initial cries. "I-I am a Sparda... I am gifted, and I shouldn't be crying... I'm sorry, Uncle Vergil."

"Good. Dry those tears." Vergil answered with a small smile at how easy it was to stop the child's tears now. He thanked the day he remembered to tell the young one about the legendary endeavours of his own father, to instil the pride of a Sparda boy that Draven was. "We will show this woman exactly what Sparda men are. Strong, proud and much better than a dirty-mouthed woman spreading unpleasant rumours without a proper basis."

"Okay, Uncle Vergil..." Draven wiped his snot and tears on his sleeve unceremoniously, blinking still moist eyes up at his uncle as Vergil straightened and turned to make up the stairs. Hearing small footsteps behind him struggling to catch up with his long legs that scaled the stairs easily, Vergil didn't look back to make sure that his nephew had followed him, simply making down the corridor to reach Dante's room.

He could hear talking going on inside, a clear woman's voice on the other side of the door. Ever since Draven had learnt to be aware of words and their meanings, both Sparda brothers had taken their customers for private discussions on their demon problems so as to keep Draven safe from the knowledge of them being demon hunters. Far as the young one knew, his father and uncle were both special people that helped out others with their personal problems for a small sum of money.

Knocking on the door politely before opening it, Vergil opened the door to find a well-dressed woman sitting across his twin, who was sitting casually on the bed, a clearly surprised expression hanging on his face. Vergil didn't bother greeting his brother, but instead met the curious eyes of the woman firmly.

"Miss," He addressed as politely as he could make himself seem despite the fact that his eyes must be shooting daggers, "Devil May Cry will not be taking your job. Please leave."

"What?" Dante jumped to his feet, but Vergil's gaze stayed firmly on the clearly-shocked woman. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean exactly what I said. Please leave before I lose my patience and decide that I do not require the manners of a man in dealing with you." Vergil ignored his brother, still addressing the woman who was clearly getting over her shock faster than his brother, a face full of insult written all over her.

"What kind of business etiquette is this?" She demanded as she came to her feet, her faux fur coat draped over her arm.

"I do consider it etiquette that I allow you to walk out of this building by your own two feet, ma'am. I consider it etiquette that I am still speaking with you politely even after what you have done."

"What have I done?" She demanded, crossing her arms. "What is so significant that you choose to lose a job that will probably bring this run-down shack more income than you have ever seen in your entire life?"

"My nephew." Vergil answered. "My nephew is much more significant than your money. I do not understand which bone you had to pick with a seven year old, but know that he is also a Sparda, and what you say to all Sparda members will not be lightly forgiven. Enough that you make false accusations on my brother without a proper basis, I do not understand why you have to show a seven year old your uncouth and unsophisticated self while you tried to hide that shame, and ugly desire beneath faux fur and diamonds."

"You insult me?" The woman was quick to fly to a rage –true to a character flaw that Vergil had anticipated. "I will sue you! I'll sue this lousy office, until the three of you are begging on the streets for rice grains!"

Vergil didn't really have the patience anymore to deal with this woman kindly. Besides, he was still eager to get things over and done with, so that he could proceed on to his cold shower and afternoon nap. The light rain outside was making the weather very suitable for curling up in his bed right now.

And thus Vergil was shameless to use make good use of his half-demonic side. Not fully triggering, but definitely tapping on his well of demonic energy enough to make his eyes glow and to give off the atmosphere of utter danger, Vergil stepped one step closer to the woman whose expression was equally immediate to change to fear.

"Go ahead and try to sue us. There is a reason how Devil May Cry has remained standing throughout these years. We have our ways of dealing with the people who try to sue us." Vergil said with his most menacing look, taking another step forwards.

It was too much for the woman to take. With a scream of fear, she gave up on her fake rich-snobbish front as she barrelled past Vergil, screaming and running out of the room, down the stairs and quickly out of the front doors of Devil May Cry with a loud slam that almost shook the building by its foundation.

"What the hell, Vergil? What was that about? She was going to give us a good pay!"

"We don't need her money." Vergil answered, reigning in his demonic energy again. "Your son was crying downstairs when I came home."

"Yeah, but that's only because he tripped over himself or something, wasn't it?"

Vergil sighed again. Seven years, and Dante was still missing out so many things as a father.

"Draven, come in here and tell your father what that woman told you." Vergil called, and it was apparent that the young boy had been hiding outside the door, because a small scared face peeked into the bedroom guiltily.

"That woman said something to Draven?" Dante asked incredulously. "She said she was playing with him and he tripped. That was why he was crying."

Vergil shook his head in resignation, turning around to walk away from his idiotic brother, and towards the relaxation of a good cold shower.

"Grow up a little, Dante. Your son is already seven, and you are still going around believing the words of a woman just because she has money." Vergil said in parting, beckoning for young Draven to come into the room to explain the whole situation to his father.

Really, however had Dante survived so many years was something completely beyond Vergil.

That being said, how Draven had survived with a father like Dante was equally perplexing.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Vergil was there.

After all, in the important points of Draven's life, wasn't it always something to do with him?