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What it Means to be Human

"Look, kid, I just don't think things are as clear cut as you make out." Dante called after Nero as the latter kicked open the door of Devil May Cry. The impact of the door thumping into the wall sounded like it had added to the dent that had been steadily growing in the years since Dante had rebuilt the shop. Watching his beloved neon sign flicker and cut out made Dante wince before following Nero inside. He hated to think of the hole Nero was beginning to burn in his already empty pockets.

"Whatever, but I think you're making a mistake." He slung the bass case off his back and removed his beloved Red Queen while Dante simply rested his against the wall. Given their clothes it was easy to mistake the two men for musicians but it had taken some doing to convince Nero that it was a necessary, as civilian carrying a six foot blade through the middle of a busy city was bound to attract unwanted attention and confrontations. The charade had irked Nero, however, as he was used to proudly displaying his weapon as a knight. Hiding her away made it seem like he was ashamed. It had been their first fight since Nero had come to the city but not their last. Everyday something Dante did irked Nero and he wasn't one to keep quiet about such things.

The falling out was in the form of an argument on a relatively touchy subject for both of them. The difference between humans and demons.

"Don't you think my greater wisdom and experience should count for something?" Dante asked as he slid out of his long coat and tossed it to land on one of his many Devil Arm displays. The sword in question snorted at this treatment but went unheeded.

It had been getting late when the two had headed out on their mission. Dante reflected that it would have been nice to make a beeline for the shower and then hit the sack, but the events of the evening and the constant bickering had his mind too occupied for sleep. Telling himself he deserved it and that he'd only have one, maybe two, he turned his attention to his well stocked private bar.

Nero meanwhile, had settled himself on the small sofa in the corner. The sofa was as old as all the furniture Dante owned, though Nero reckoned that its spring had passed away more from Dante's rough treatment than from age. Nero held his sword, point to the floorboards, and set about cleaning and maintaining both the blade and the intricate Exceed System. He liked to keep his attention occupied by day to day tasks like this whenever the two of them fell to arguing. He was only staying with Dante for a few weeks while the more experienced hunter introduced him to the various contacts he might need for work in the big city. It was clear that Dante was trying to make a good impression, the place had actually been relatively tidy when he'd arrived, but Dante's inner slob and not been held at bay for long and now the main room played host to empty takeout boxes discarded magazines and the scattered remains of a few practice dummies. Sighing to himself as he looked up he saw that Dante had wasted no time in fishing out some glasses which were passably clean and opening a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Age might make you more experienced," Nero retorted "but you must be going senile if you think a bloodthirsty demon could pull a 180 and be all sweetness and light."

Dante's barked a laugh and downed his first drink, completely unphased by the barbs in Nero's comment. After all, it was common knowledge that his own father had done precisely that. Trish as well if it came to that. It occurred to Dante that although Nero had met Trish more than once, they hadn't really spoken of her much. He couldn't be certain whether or not he'd actually remembered to mention to the kid that Trish was technically one hundred percent demon, not that that mattered much. Smacking his lips as he savoured the taste, Dante poured another drink though a little larger this time, and decided to wait until a more appropriate time to out Trish.

"You think this is a black and white issue do you? Good and evil, the two extremes? No room for manoeuvring, no compromises?" He sipped at his drink as he came around the bar to plant himself on one of the high barstools. The bar set up had cost him a pretty penny, he had to admit. If he was feeling more honest he'd admit it was a pretty penny more than he could really afford, but it had been a good friend to him over the years. Especially after a night like the one he'd just had.

"Well I admit it's not quite as clear cut as all that. You know I'm not naïve enough to think otherwise. I just don't see what's wrong with saying that…"

"All devils are evil?" Dante finished and grinned darkly.

Nero sighed with exasperation. He'd been dealing with demon's most of his life. He'd spent years surrounded by experts in demon lore and was sure of what he was saying. He truly believed it.

"What's wrong with that? They kill people and perform unspeakable act of cruelty, they keep invading this world and trying to take it over. What more do you need before you call that evil?"

"For a start, what army in history hasn't said that about the other side?" Dante heard the sofa groan as Nero stood up in anger, but continued on before he could be interrupted. "Secondly, everyone is capable of having a change of heart, even demons. Though I admit I keep a one strike and you're out policy."

"But it just doesn't happen!" Nero's voiced was raised with a note of a whine in it. He cleared his throat and made an effort to sound more normal and gave up concentrating on cleaning his sword. This clearly wasn't an argument that was going to just blow over after a quick exchange. "It's one thing to say maybe they'll give up evil but if it was that were that easy there'd be retired demons all over the place."

"Now you're just sounding childish." Dante still sat at the bar his back to the approaching Nero, striding over in order to look him in the face. After leaning his sword against the bar Nero noticed he was only able to look down at the top of Dante's lowered head.

"Are you going to keep treating me like a kid no matter what I do?" he asked heatedly. Moving his hair out of his eyes, Dante sat up straight and smiled lazily once they were at eye level. At times like this if always surprised Nero that the two of them were near enough the same height. It was as if Dante usually managed to give the impression he was far taller. This was the smallest Nero had ever seen him looking.

"You'll always be a kid to me." Somehow he made it sound like it was meant as an endearing complement, but it simply irked Nero. "If you're so sure of everything, then answer me this," His voice tightened as he spoke and he lifted his glass to peer at it in the light. Belated Nero noticed that there was far more missing from the bottle that he'd expected. Dante wasn't just having a drink or two, this was heavy duty drinking. "What's the difference between a demon and a human?" He finally asked, frowning as he did so, as though he was the one who'd just been asked it.

This puzzled Nero; he'd never heard Dante talk so much before. It was disconcerting. To hide his embarrassment he slipped onto the stool to Dante's right, which caused the other to break out of his reverie.

"Well kid?" He asked, pouring a shot into a second glass and sliding it over without even asking if he'd like it. "Think a demon living in the human world could become human if they chose to live like one?"

After a tentative sniff of his glass, Nero added some lemonade and tried a sip. It tasted foul to him but at least the flavour was a little disguised by the mixer. In the meantime, Dante had poured himself another.

"What if," Nero began tentatively, "what if they can't integrate? What if they relapse and someone gets killed? One strike and you're out sounds fine in theory but it wouldn't bring the dead person back. Surely it's better to wipe them out while we can rather than trust they might be strong enough to change their ways?"

This made Dante chuckle as he took his drink a little slower.

"You think that all demons do is spend their days hating and fighting this world? I though you knew better, after all, wasn't it you're lot that droned on about how humane my old man was?"

It was the first time Nero had heard Dante talk about his father, though he'd been hoping that this particular point wouldn't come up, seeing as it was the biggest contradiction to everything else The Order had taught him. Dante had his full attention now though. Nero might not have been one for prayer and overt reverence but he'd always tried to take inspiration from the story of Sparda. Although he was burning with questions, he couldn't bring himself to ask anything. After all, The Order of the Sword had made Sparda out to be more than just a demon who'd done good; they'd all but raised him to the status of a god. An here he was watching the god's son working his way through a bottle of whiskey in a run down store in the bad part of a rough and dangerous metropolis.

Steering clear of the subject, Nero brought the conversation round to the demons they'd been fighting that evening.

"Demons living like humans are one thing but that pack tonight were different. I don't see why you let those last two live. They weren't looking to settle down and open a restaurant here. They'll just lick their wounds and go back to fighting humans."

"They surrendered." Dante's eyes were as hard as his tone with this pronouncement. Once again it seemed like he was arguing with someone other than Nero. "Not only that but the smaller one came back for its friend. You don't cut people down in cold blood." His head snapped up and he seemed a bit more himself again. "You just don't do it kid." He didn't sound unkind, more as though he was teaching a less.

"But they weren't people, they were demons." Nero sipped at his drink again, trying to enjoy it but wondering if spirits were a good way to be introduced to post battle drinking.

"And there" Dante raised his glass as he gestured "is where I just can't agree with you." He downed the contents before thumping the empty glass upside down on the bar. "There is no such thing as non-people kid. Don't ever use that as a justification for what we do. I've killed humans as well as demons and I tell you now, every last one of them was a person."

Now Nero was feeling particularly uncomfortable. He tried another swallow before abandoning his drink and settling for sitting in silence, wondering how he might fair if he had to fight a drunken Dante to take away the whiskey bottle.

Before Nero could decide if it was worth the risk, Dante seemed to read his mind. A gloved hand shot out and took the bottle but the neck. Spinning around on the stool, he faced into the room and leaned back with his elbows on the bar, the bottle now well out of Nero's reach without resorting to his Devil Bringer. The way Dante was glowering, it wouldn't have surprised Nero if Dante had started to swig directly from the bottle.

"Look," Nero started awkwardly, trying to break the dark mood which had settled over them. "I didn't mean…" but Dante interrupted.

"What does that matter kid. You're not the first to think it. I just want you to understand." When he looked over at Nero the redness in his eyes was a surprise. Gripping the edge of the bar with both hands he swallowed hard but kept quiet. "It's the job kid; this life ain't an easy one. And what's more, if you think it is you're fooling yourself." He clapped a large hand on Nero's shoulder with considerable force while he spoke, making Nero's hair stand on end.

Without warning, Dante was off his stool with steadiness which surprised Nero. He didn't move as if drunk. Nero wondered how often Dante must get drunk like this if he'd was able to mask it so well. When he crossed the room however, it was not with the usual swagger of a Dante at ease. Those level serious strides were that of a man going into battle. Approaching his discarded coat, Nero wondered at first if Dante was planning to head out to find something to fight, yet Dante left the coat where it had been thrown. Much to Nero's dismay, Dante turned back around with one of his trusty sidearms in his left hand, Ebony. Unsure of just what was going on, Nero silently thanked his lucky stars that he was still wearing his own coat and could feel the reassuring weight of the Blue Rose at his side.

Heedless of his concerned audience, Dante began pacing the room, the half empty Jack Daniels' bottle dangling at his side and Ebony's flank tapping a rhythm against his neck, as though he were aiming at something over his shoulder.

Nero's hairs were still on end and he tensed his muscles as he kept a close eye on Ebony's every movement. The sight of Dante with a gun in his hand was not one which Nero was happy with at the best of times. Trying not to attract attention to his movements, Nero slid off of the bar stool and took a few muted steps towards the desk.

Even with so much alcohol in his system, Dante's senses were still far sharper than average and he looked up at the sound of Nero's step. A dark look passed over his features and he began to rail, gesturing wildly with the hand which held the gun.

"The quicker you learn to accept it the better kid." Nero nodded emphatically, not certain if Dante was still talking about the same thing or not. It sounded as it he'd missed a large portion of unspoken conversation. He kept his expression calm as he took a step towards Dante in an effort to placate him. "Otherwise, when it finally hits it'll be worse. This isn't pretty but I'd rather save you all that bullshit." There was a strange croak in Dante's voice as he said this and looked aside.

Holding Ebony up at eye level, Dante turned her this way and that as though admiring the design.

"You know what this is kid? This is how we live and how we bury ourselves." He reached his arm out, aiming across the room towards where Nero was standing and calmly pulled the trigger.

Authors Note :- Surprisingly enough this was originally intended as a relatively light-hearted and funny piece but it went and mutated on me. The next chapter is half complete and will hopefully be up in the next few days, but I'm still unsure whether or to let this slide into yaoi or not. A belated big thank you to otherhawk for proofreading this and "Something on His Mind" as well as for your constant encouragement.