He ran like a fox from the hounds, muscles trembling with exhaustion, but he ran not for his own survival, but for theirs.

Years of bondage and torture had dulled his senses and wit, being kept like an animal against a rock, letting the fell creatures of the underworld pick at his flesh as the eagle had daily devoured Prometheus' liver.

Prometheus had given mankind fire. He had given them their lives.

Heracles had not come to free him though.

The insipid whispers of Mundus against his enemies ear, gentle as a lovers, telling of how he had finally found the great Knights family. How he had sent his agents to devour their flesh and bones and rape their souls until there was nothing left had woken him from his pain induced stupor. Sharpened his mind once more.

Somehow, weak and bloody he had broken the bonds that had kept him tied at the beginning. He's letting you go, another means of torture. his mind pointed out, that part of him coldly logical in the face of his overwhelming emotions and fear.

The fact that freedom from hell did not come without battle and strife reassured him a little, but always there was the thought that it might just be too easy.

Never mind it, never mind if this was another way to cause him pain, to let him see his families slaughter. He had to go, had to defy Mundus again, he would win out, save them and be with them. Feel Eva's kiss and stroke his nestlings hair.

He was drawn, knowing the path. One of his old homes, of course. Eva would have the sense to keep them moving.

He crested the entrance to the valley and looked down, willing himself not to fall.

Smoke pluming. Wicked tongues of flame. Smell of cooking flesh in his nostrils.

NO! Too late, too late!

Adrenaline coursed and he forgot his weariness, sprinting down the path, black freckles eating at his vision and human form blurring as he rushed forward.

She couldn't have fallen, not his strong wife, not his proud Valkyrie. She wouldn't leave their nestlings, their children alone, she wouldn't let them be killed and how he knew she wouldn't die until she got to hurt him for failing them and being away for so long.

He sensed no demons, he prayed it was their flesh that burned. That she had been victorious and was now fleeing with Dante and Vergil. Yes, then he could track them down and they'd be together again.

But he knew the scent of demon flesh, and it was tender human that he breathed in now amongst the stone and timber.

In front of the funeral pyre that had been one their favourite villa's he fell to his knees, screaming in agony and rage and the horrible feeling of helplessness he wallowed in his newfound misery. So much worse than the pain of being bound and devoured.

Before he'd been able to hide in the dreams that they at least were safe but it was all gone. Reality reared its ugly head and sought to tear him asunder.

They were all gone.

No more streaming golden hair, sharp tongue and loving embrace. No more twin smiles clothed in blue and red. They had been so small when he had left for that last time.

He cursed that devils could not know the sweet release of sorrow into tears. Primitive howling all he could do to express his pain. Ripping up the earth between his hands and wishing that he were dead himself.

What Mundus wanted, what he had probably wanted from the moment he whispered in the knights ear.

Mundus.

This time there would be no respite for the dark Lord, only death.

Crack.

He whipped his head around, silver hair limp around his face, growing steadily pewter dark as soot fell from the air.

A small trembling form, gazing at him with big blue eyes through a veil of silver hair so identical to his own, clutching a too large sword to his chest like it was a security blanket as he gazed in mild horror at the stick his foot had broken. It couldn't…

He rose slowly, advancing carefully towards the nestling, his. One of his, "Thank you…" he whispered hoarsely to no one and everyone. Carefully he proceeded, soft noises of comfort for him and his young, watching as the boy almost skittered back into the dark shadows of the trees from whence he'd came.

Familial instinct, it drew the child to him, his child who couldn't possibly remember his father. Or could he? Eva had photos after all. He winced at the thought of her, finally reaching his nestling and opening his arms, the boy surging forward to press against him.

He drank in his scent, his warmth and comfort. The first he had known in so long, felt the nestling as he took the love he needed from his sire's arms. He felt with envy the moisture now soaking into his chest.

"Its alright…" he whispered, "Its alright… you're safe now."

Mundus had failed, he and his child survived.

Sparda swore that together they would take revenge for the mother and wife, twin and son who had been lost.

Together.

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A drabble that demanded to be longer. XD Just an AU, I like to think that Sparda might just be captured somewhere and will one day come back to kick ass, ah well.

I was deliberately ambiguous about the ending, its up to you guys to decide whether it was Dante or Vergil he found. I might do a sequel once I decide who it was for myself, lemme know what you think. :3