For Want of a Beer

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry, Dante, or Lady. Or the Temen-Ni-Gru, although it would be cool to have one of them. They all belong to Capcom. This story is rated M for language, a scene of graphic violence, and rather graphic adult situations later on.

The story takes place about six or so months after Devil May Cry 3.

Thanks to NiuNiu for reading this little story ahead of time!


Chapter 1:

Hmm, nice evening, tonight.

Dante walked down the street in the slum leading from the finally fixed-up Devil May Cry headquarters, hands stuffed in the pockets of his red longcoat. He wore no shirt underneath, the early fall breeze was cool against his chest. His still-damp hair was plastered to his forehead; hiding his clear, blue eyes. He had just gotten out of the shower, and desperately required a nice, cold pint right about now. He could almost taste it, in fact.

He had planned on being off today; but, well, things rarely go as planned. Especially for me, he thought grumpily to himself. The call had came in the afternoon; apparently there was some problems at the maximum security prison on the outskirts of the city. Big problems. Lady was asleep still; and since she liked being awakened even less than him, he let her sleep and took the job himself. Well, he did enjoy his work. Someone looking in on the outside might think he enjoys his work a bit too much. But Dante didn't harm humans-well, permanently, anyway. Sure, if one took a crack at him he'd defend himself, but with only a tiny fraction of his power. He wasn't a stranger to the odd bar-brawl, but when one has the blood of demons running through one's veins; that side must be kept in check.

These demons were tricky for him. As many times as he has said that he could not, or would not kill humans-unless there was a very, very bad circumstance, like the rare murderous, sacrificing ones that gave their souls to the hells in which to summon demons to the human world. As far as he was concerned, they fell under his jurisdiction, so to speak. But he still didn't like to do it.

The demons at the prison were tricky because were human at one point. Demons came in many shapes and forms; and these particular ones were non-corporeal that gained flesh by taking over that of the lowest of the low-and what better than to 'attack' a maximum security prison, which held the dregs of the wine barrel that was humanity? However, Dante did take the job-and the fact of the matter is these men were indeed no longer human; they may have looked it(barring their white-pupiled eyes and the fact they bled red-black blood and had increased physical abilities), but they no longer were; to separate the demon from the host would kill the body, anyway. He knew how these demons worked-once they took residence, they fed off the body to the point where they themselves were keeping what was basically the shell alive. He could sense the humanity gone from them; and had he not done anything...much worse would have happened. Dante was doing them, and the city, a favor. It was worse if they took over people who were a little less...despicable, but it was also a lot more difficult for them-which is why they tended to 'feed' on those who were already far on the other end of the scale. The prison was a wreck-the guards killed, and now-possessed demon prisoners running loose. I have a feeling I'll be getting a few more calls before this week is up. I better enjoy this beer while I can.

After the job, he had gone back to his office for a shower and a beer; he wanted both after the battle. However, his beer was gone, much to his chagrin. So it was off to the bar he went, after the shower, naturally-showing up covered in reddish-black demon blood didn't get you served so easily, even at the low-end shitholes he frequented. Lady was awake and in a fairly decent mood; though she scolded him a bit for not waking her. What did you want me to do? I wake you, and you're grumpy. I don't wake you, and you're grumpy. Gimme a hint here, woman! She decided to skip the bar, for now, perhaps she would join later.

Dante and Lady shared a rather interesting relationship. They were close, no doubt. After the series of incidents at Temen-Ni-Gru a few short months before, Lady had essentially moved in with him(neither really knew why, but Lady didn't have much else, and the two somehow did get along); though she didn't really give the place too much of a woman's touch. She would help him on demon jobs as well, being a demon hunter herself who was excellent with all types of firearms. As good as she was, Dante did find himself worrying now and again; she was a human. She had human limitations, including mortality. But he was glad to have her around. Oh, she would sometimes snap at him for tracking demon blood into the place, but made no move to clean it. Dante occasionally would do a little cleaning, if you could call it that, he would sometimes stack the old pizza boxes up in a corner-somehow the man practically lived on pizza. The place was spartan; a desk, a jukebox, a few chairs, a long but battered couch with a wooden table slightly stained with coffee and old cola, a TV, a telephone, and a fridge-which typically contained old pieces of pizza, a hardened lemon which Lady swore was there when she first saw the place, some milk that was a bit past it's due by about a month, a fuzzy thing in the back which should technically have been paying rent at this point and beer-when it wasn't all finished. The 'apartment' also had a bathroom and a backroom with two mattresses stacked on each other with a ragged blanket where he slept. Dante was in debt a lot, in any case-the destruction he caused to the demon world was narrowly followed by the destruction he caused to property while he was dismembering them. His business helped him sort of stay even, and supplied cash for his greasy food and beer. Lady knew Dante didn't do it for the money, though. He killed demons for free if he saw them, because he wanted to protect people, and because he seemingly plain out enjoyed it.

Lady would occasionally join him in the bed some nights-but nothing out of the ordinary happened. Tease, he had thought to himself a few times. The two of them had kissed before; and truth be told she turned him on in about a hundred different ways; but they hadn't done anything more. Lady herself couldn't figure out if his raging hormones were a result of his human or demon side; but she had a feeling that Sparda might well have left some other genes behind in his son in addition to the ones that gave him his inhuman strength, speed, and endurance. Lady almost seemed to be amused by the way she could tease him so easily; Dante tried to act less than amused, but he did indeed care for her. He honestly was just happy those nights that he would sleep with her, front to back, his arms slung around her.

Lady had her mood swings; having shot her demon-worshiping and possessed father in the head, and not a terribly long time ago, in addition to him having sacrificed her mother in the past, tends to leave a few scars no matter how tough one acts. Dante, no matter what time of day or where he was, was always there for her if she needed him; they never told each other that, but they knew. He could tell if she needed comfort at any time; he would sometimes just let her lay there, falling asleep on his chest. Lady herself knew how to get through to Dante as well; he wasn't always the happy-go-lucky battle-lusting, demon-hunting, horribly perverted wiseass that he let most people believe; he had his own skeletons in the closet, namely in the form of his twin brother, Vergil, whom had sided with the demons and as a result, Dante had killed him in battle the same time that Lady had executed her father. Besides the odd kiss they shared-sometimes quite deep-their affection was shown in more ways than words. Lady was the one and only human that still lived that had ever seen his deeper, more emotional human side, and he kind of preferred to keep it like that.

But Dante was still a man, and she still turned him on to no end. He knew he did the same to her; but he wasn't pushing into anything.

''Finally!'' he said to no one in particular. He looked up and saw bar sign. It looked rather empty. Good thing he reached it; the dark clouds were starting to roll in. A storm could hit at any time. He walked in, ripped off his coat-the bartender was used to Dante sitting shirtless at the bar, and since he was one of his only customers, he didn't say anything. He sat and ordered a gigantic bottle of beer. He breathed it in, sighed, and took one swig. The ice cold beer hit his throat, and it almost felt better than sex at this moment. Almost. He looked up at the old, worn and fuzzy TV that was above the bar that was spouting out some confused-sounding news, and he heard a distant rumble; thunder for sure. He doubted anyone else at the bar-which was the bartender-could hear it; his senses of hearing, smell and sight were increased quite a bit from that of a normal human. He looked out the window of the early dusk; leaves blew by the door in the wind that had picked up, occasionally swirling in place in the air.

In fact, speaking of heightened senses, as he went to take a second swig of his prize, his sense of smell told him something that he really wasn't interested in at this moment.

Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me.

At that, there was a terrific crash behind him, and the bartender suddenly got an absolutely terrified look on his face. Dante slammed his beer down onto the bar, pointed to the bartender, and then to the back door, and span around on the barstool.

''Did you guys fucking follow me!?'' he said angrily, looking into several pairs of reddish, oily eyes with white pupils.

Standing in what was left of the doorway were several of the priso...demons. Well, the entire prison had been sort of breached, the prisoners that were turned into demons had killed most of the ones that weren't; and while Dante mopped up the place rather effectively, some had already escaped-he knew as much. He just didn't think they'd find him, well, now. Dante stood up, turned around, and faced them, cracking his knuckles and his neck. He had left his weapons back at the shop-as much as the bartender didn't mind him not having a shirt, having weapons in the bar was typically frowned upon-but Dante didn't need them. Dante could kill the hellish denizens just as effectively if you chained both of his hands behind his back as he could with his sword, guns, and other odd weapons he had around the shop.

''Come on, now. If you wanna dance, get over here and dance,'' he taunted them. While he did enjoy fighting demons-he really, really just wanted to drink his beer at the moment. These demons were in for a world of hurt for disturbing him. In a flash, he was running at the group.

One tried to dash forward and grab at him; even with what used to be human shells they were quite fast-but Dante was faster; he span out of the way and brought a backfist around to the side of it's head; he finished with a roundhouse to the ribcage which sent the demon crashing into the wall in a spray of blood. They may have looked human, but they weren't anymore, and Dante was not holding back his strikes. While they were certainly more resilient to normal damage, as shown from a few of the bulletwounds no doubt caused by the prison guard's sidearms-the damage that Dante could do with a single blow was hardly normal. A second demon went for Dante's throat; his claw-like hands left a few red marks down Dante's chest, but otherwise missed; Dante leapt up and fired a kick down onto his head with such force it snapped the neck and caved in the top half of it's head before it flew back into the bar.

Knocking over his beer.


Dante waded into the middle of the crowd; the bartender had taken off for the back room like Dante motioned to, as well as he should have. Hell, he might well have taken off far, far away from the bar, which would have been even better. The demons tried; a few blows landed now and again, but Dante, able to take punishment at times that could seemingly kill a minor god, barely felt it. His fists, feet, knees and elbows lashed out in all directions with blinding speed and crushing power; demons flew back, into each other, into walls, out the windows. Red-black blood sprayed out often; Dante didn't even pay notice. He planned on getting another shower again, anyhow. He shattered one's back over his knee before throwing it through a wall. One demon attempted to rush him from a side, he leapt, trapped it's head between his ankles, and snapped it's neck, half decapitating it. Another tried to tackle him; he grabbed it's arms and kicked it in the upper chest so hard that when it flew back and hit the wall with a boneless sound, Dante still held the arms in his hands. He tossed them down, taunting the rest of them to even try, as he sent elbow out behind him to catch another square in the face that had tried to sneak up on him.

Dante not only hated demons, he really hated when they disturbed him on his 'off-time.' But the other part of him absolutely loved destroying them; the part of him that embraced his human side, and did not wish to see humanity harmed. As he always said, he lived for it.

As he sent his hand through the last demon's throat, essentially ripping it out, he dropped the limp corpse on the ground, his fingers becoming dislodged from it's neck with a sucking sound as it continued to bleed, and stood back.

Sorry about the bar. Guess I should maybe cut into the funds, again. He cursed himself for forgetting to take it outside like he always did. Well, demons liked to attack the slums-his first job was a combination of making sure any humans around were safe and then killing the demons. He didn't pay attention to collateral damage too often. He saw many of the bottles on the wall broken, as well as the tap-not to mention tables, chairs... Just my luck, again. Dante wasn't having the best run of luck this week. Well, Dante rarely had the best of luck. This happened, sometimes-well, often. Dante could be a right trouble-magnet, when it got down to it. He turned to pick up his coat which had fallen on the ground, brushed it off, and walked out with it slung over his shoulder. When he got outside to breathe in some of the fresh, cool air to get the stench of the demonic corruption out of his nose, he felt a quick, sharp pain dig into his shin. He turned around and saw a demon that was somehow left alive, on the ground, digging his fingers into Dante's flesh..through his pants, putting holes in them. The demon looked up through sickened, white-pupiled eyes and smiled. Dante closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled.

''!!'' he growled at the demon, before he raised his leg and stomped down squarely onto its head with his heavy boot. There was a horrific wet crunching sound as the demon's head shattered like a glass bulb; the force was such the pavement below the demon's head was pulverized, as well. The oily, reddish blood as well as some other remains sprayed everywhere, and even hit Dante across the face. He turned, white hair blowing in the growing fall breeze, and walked down the street; the clouds continuing to roll in. He hoped it would rain soon; it might wash away some of the demonic blood that was soaking the street around the bar.