Summary: Nope, not saying anything

Disclaimer: Don't own Dante, Vergil, DMC, or Santa Claus. Also don't own Sparda. This weird-ass storyline, however, is completely mine!

Santa Demon

"Don't tell me you're actually going through with this."

Dante looked over at his brother, who was leaning against the doorjamb with arms crossed, watching him inspect his costume. "Yes, I am. The pay is good, and besides, nobody will recognize me. I've never had a beard or a beer-gut in my life." He regarded at the white-trimmed red outfit with hooded eyes, then slid them over to the older twin with a wide grin, a playful wink. "Besides, the kids are expecting me. Can't let them down, now, can I?"

Vergil rolled his eyes. "It's just that I never, ever dreamed that you would agree to this. I can't see you as..."

"Well, you're gonna see me in a few minutes, once I get the friggin' costume on." He waved a hand vaguely at his twin as he grabbed the stuffed padding that would serve as a 'round little belly.' "If you'll be so kind as to shut the door...?"

"Me? Kind? Perish the thought!" But he shut the door anyway; he had no desire to see his twin brother in his birthday suit.

About ten minutes later, Dante strolled down the stairs in full regalia, looking for all the world exactly like the Coca-Cola commercials. Vergil, relaxing at the desk in his brother's favorite chair, bit back a smirk when he saw that his brother had hidden Ebony and Ivory's holsters beneath the red coat. Apparently, he would dress up for the little kids at the orphanage, but he refused to go weaponless.

"You're in my chair," he commented, pulling the cap down over the white wig. His hair, alas, was far too short and straight for him to get out of wearing the wavy wig.

"Does it really matter?" Vergil inquired with a straight face. He was biting the inside of his cheek as hard as he possibly could to keep from busting a gut on the floor. All things considered, seeing his brother like this was hilarious.

"Of course it does. That's my chair." He pouted behind the beard, then strode to the front door of Devil May Cry and wrenched it open. A swirl of snow blew inside to scatter across the floor, the furniture, and his shiny black boots. "Well, I'm off. See ya around midnight, bro."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Vergil pointed at the green sack of wrapped gifts the orphanage ladies had delivered earlier that morning, which Dante was supposed to bring with him to give to the kids. "I think the kids might be really disappointed to find out that Jolly Old Saint Nicholas didn't bring them any presents."

"Oh yeah." Looking properly sheepish, Dante grabbed the enormous bag and heaved it over his shoulder, turning to the door once again.

"How are you getting there, pray tell?"

"Motorcycle."

"Wait a minute." Vergil stood up and went to his brother, making sure he would hear every single word. "You are planning on getting on your Harley with that sack of toys, in this ice and snow, and riding it to the orphanage? Isn't that a bit... out of character?"

"Hey, this is me you're talking to. I can handle a damn sack of presents on my bike, and I've never had a wreck before! Besides, what else am I supposed to do? It's Christmas Eve; there aren't any cabbies working in our area, and neither of us have a car. I'm certainly not hoofing it across town in this snow. The bike is the best I can do!"

Vergil shook his head. "Fine. It's your neck you'll be breaking." He went back to the desk and settled himself in his brother's chair, his legs stretched out beneath the desk rather than on top of it. "Have fun."

"Oh, I'll be the jolliest damn Santa Claus you ever did see! See ya, bro." Dante went out into the night with a "Ho ho ho!" that actually sounded pretty authentic. Vergil had no idea his brother's voice could get that deep. The roar of a motorcycle soon filled the air, and faded as Dante took off to the orphanage.

Once he was gone, Vergil gave free rein to the laughter he had been holding in check, falling to the floor and laughing until tears - yes, tears! - streamed from the corners of his eyes to disappear into his hair. His badass, demon-hunting, ass-kicking, tough-guy twin brother dressing up as Santa Claus for a bunch of orphaned kids! There was nothing he had ever come across in all his twenty-two years that could possibly compare to this for sheer absurdity!

After busting his gut several times over, Vergil shakily climbed back into the chair and leaned back, trying to catch his breath and occasionally letting out a residual giggle. "Whew... Never thought I'd see the day..."

Especially considering what they had discovered about Saint Nick when they were five...

Vergil rested his head on the back of the chair as he allowed a moment of remeniscence, his mind wandering back through the years to that one, special night...

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"Psst! Vergil! Didja hear that?"

Vergil rubbed at his eyes and glared sleepily up at his little brother, who was hanging his head over the side of the top bunk so he could look at his twin. "Hear what?"

"Listen!"

Annoyed at being awakened just when he was so close to drifting off, Vergil listened just to please his brother. The sooner he got Dante to go back to sleep, the sooner he could return to his interrupted dream of Christmas presents and cookies as far as the eye could see.

His cerulean eyes widened as there was a loud thumping noise from the roof.

"What is that?" he asked. It couldn't possibly be... Daddy had said he didn't exist!

"It's Santa Claus! It has to be!"

"But Daddy said..."

"I know what Daddy said, but you heard Mommy. She said he does exist!" Dante flipped himself head-over-heels out of the bunk, landing on his feet a short distance from the bed. "C'mon, Vergil! Let's go see if we can catch him and show Daddy!"

"Catch Santa Claus?" All thoughts of sleep flew away at the idea of trapping Santa and showing him to their parents. "What if he keeps our presents and gives us coal instead?"

"Then we'll find a way to use the coal." Well, at least he was unconcerned. Vergil got out of bed and followed his twin out to the hallway and to the stairs, moving as quietly as they possibly could. "He's gotta be putting our presents under the tree right now. I'll jump on his back, and you get his legs, 'kay?" Dante whispered excitedly.

"'Kay." They peeked around the wall where the railing of the banister began, and Vergil's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. Dante hissed out a soft "Yes!" when they saw him.

Santa Claus, rooting around in his sack to find their gifts.

His back was to them, but they took extreme care not to make any noise as they crept down the stairs and into position, ready to spring...

"Nikolaius?"

Their father's voice intruded upon the scene just as they sprang, making Dante fall flat on his face just inches away from the shiny black boots. Vergil looked back to the kitchen to see Sparda standing there with a glass of cranberry juice, watching the tableau with amused blue eyes.

"Sparda! Long time no see!"

He looked back to Santa, who was watching the Legendary Dark Knight with twinkling blue eyes, a wide grin on his rosy face.

"Dad? You know Santa?" Dante asked, rubbing at his head as he got up from the floor.

"I was wondering who had begun the myth of Santa Claus, but I must admit that I was not expecting you, Nikolaius." Sparda went to his favorite armchair and settled down against the back. "I knew it had to be a demon of some kind, but..."

"It's a good way to work off my debt to humanity, Sparda. And a nice way to piss off Mundus, knowing how he feels about human younglings." Santa reached for one of the cookies Dante had left out for him, munching on it with teeth that were a little too sharp to be human.

"Daddy? What's going on?" Vergil asked, backing away from the accused demonic fat man.

"Nikolaius was one of Mundus' most powerful followers, Vergil. He was the only one who followed me when I turned traitor. Last I heard of you," he continued, returning his attention to Santa, "You had found a woman and settled down in Rome."

"Yes, I did indeed wed Valeria and settle in Rome. But you know what happened, I'll bet. She grew old and died, Rome fell, I had to find a new place to hide. I changed my name and joined the Church as a bishop - a good way to hide in plain sight, no? - named Nicholas. The rest is lost to the legend of Saint Nicholas, known today as Santa Claus." He shrugged, and reached for another cookie.

"You're a demon? Is that how you can go around the world in a single night, get in and out of houses, and make all those toys?" Dante demanded.

"Yes. Being a demon does have its advantages. I just don't use chimneys, as people seem to believe."

"Teleporting. You always were good at that." Sparda took a drink of his juice and reached an arm out to Vergil, who was standing as close to his father as he could get without climbing into his lap. Vergil knew his father could sense his anxiety at this situation. There was a strange demon standing in their house, and their father wasn't going to kill it. In fact, he seemed to be treating him as if he were an old comrade!

"And wings are better than that sleigh and reindeer humans seem to believe I have. Much faster."

"What about your elves? Or Mrs. Claus and Rudolph? You've gotta have them!" Dante wailed.

"I don't have elves. I have imps. Lesser demons whose minds were wiped clean when I defeated them. They are basically living, breathing automatrons; they do whatever task I put them to and complete it without complaint. They do not think for themselves any more. Rudolph is just another part of the Santa myth. I don't have reindeer. Not a single one. What I do have is a hell-hound named Blitzen. He keeps the Mrs. safe while I'm away on Christmas Eve."

"Who has taken up the role as Mrs. Claus to your Santa?" Sparda asked, sounding amused.

"Just a succubus friend of mine. Remember Jurelalusia?"

"Ah yes. Dear Jurelalusia. How could I ever forget your mate?" The white-haired man looked at Santa curiously, Vergil still holding tightly to his arm. "How did you get her to the Human World, anyway?"

"Individual demons can get past the seal, Sparda. Maybe not at full power, but they can. Jurelalusia was a lesser succubus, remember? She kept the majority of her power when she came through."

"How are you keeping her under control?"

Santa gave him a very satisfied smile. "I have my ways."

"What ways?" Dante asked.

"I keep her busy, that's all."

"Nikolaius..." Sparda said in a warning tone.

"Sorry, Sparda. I take it they don't know about that sort of thing yet?"

"They are only five years of age. Of course I haven't told them about that yet."

Dante started to ask something, but Vergil cut him off with a quick mental shout. His little brother winced and grabbed his head. Vergil bit his lip; he hadn't meant to shout quite that loud.

"Do you live in the North Pole?" he asked quietly.

"Of course. It's too cold up there for most humans to try and find us, and completely isolated. Exactly what a demon such as myself needs after so many years of living among humans." Santa looked at his wrist, where a golden Rolex gleamed. "Wish I could visit further, but I have to go now. Other houses to visit, presents to leave, etc." He wagged a finger at the twins. "Now you be good and go to sleep, or next year there will be nothing but coal in your stockings!"

"Okay, Santa." Dante shot up the stairs an instant later, unwilling to disobey the demon who brought his Christmas presents.

"Daddy?" Vergil asked, looking up at his father.

"It is all right, my son. Nikolaius will not harm you. I made sure of that years ago." He shooed his older son towards the stairs. "Now, go to bed."

"Until next year, Sparda?" Santa offered, polishing off the glass of milk.

"Of course, Nikolauis. You and I have some serious catching-up to do."

"Farewell, old friend." Santa disappeared in a red blur, leaving no sign of his passage. Vergil crept up the stairs and back to his and Dante's room, shutting the door quietly behind him and climbing back into his bed. He felt strangely calm; Santa was real, but he wasn't exactly what humans thought he was.

He looked up at his brother's bunk. "Dante? You awake?"
"Shhh! I'm trying to sleep!" came the hissed reply.

"G'night, brother." Vergil rolled over and went back to sleep, happy that he, his brother, and his father weren't the only demons in this Human World as he had previously thought.

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Vergil smiled, a softer grin than he would normally wear, and went upstairs to retrieve Dante's present. He had spent enough money on this specially-enhanced shotgun; Dante had better like it if he knew what was good for him. Laying it under the tree they had decorated in the corner, he looked to the window thoughtfully. As old as he was, he ought to do something for their father's friend. Somehow, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

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When Dante came home, covered in snow and completely exhausted but happy, he found that Devil May Cry was empty. Vergil must have already hit the sack, he thought, kneeling on the floor behind the pool table. He quickly pried up one of the floorboards with minimal noise and pulled out Vergil's gift, an authentic Roman-era sword he had paid an arm and a leg for back in October. Putting the floorboard back, he carried the long present over to the tree and laid it beneath the limbs with a certain satisfaction. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Vergil would like this gift.

Pulling off the wig and beard with a sigh of relief - that costume was hot! - he noticed that a plate of cookies from a tin they had bought yesterday sitting on a chair in front of the window with a glass of milk sitting beside it, a folded piece of paper anchored beneath the glass.

Curious, he went to the chair and unfolded the note, leaving one edge beneath the milk.

Nikolaius,

I realize that it has been many, many years since either one of us has spoken to you or even thought about you, but I thought that I would leave you this in memory of the cameraderie you shared with our father. Enjoy!

Vergil, Son of Sparda

"Wow. Guess he really does have the Christmas spirit after all." Dante carefully refolded the note and glanced outside, hearing a thumping noise on the roof, and raced up the stairs as fast as his legs could take him.

He certainly didn't want any coal for Christmas, after all.