So, one day I got this idea that I wanted to write something that illustrates what our favorite guy in red would desire most. I mean this in a totally nonsexual way.

It all came from phrase from an old Disney song (You read right) 'A dream is a wish your heart makes'.

This is what I think he would want given the choice of certain circumstances.

Title comes from the song performed by the Eurythmics (and Marlyn Manson)

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Chapter 1: Out of Kansas

"Get the door" Lady shouted the order as she hefted half of Dante's slipping body weight onto her left shoulder. The other half of the burden was covered by Trish, who deftly balanced him on her right shoulder while she kicked her booted foot into the doors of Devil May Cry. The thick, heavy wooden doors crashed backwards on its hinges and groaned in protest as its momentum stopped against the walls.

Lady's muscles screamed in agony as they reached their limit. Trish, while nowhere near a slouch when it came to using her demonic strengths for heavy lifting was certainly feeling the effects. The two women dragged the devil hunter's semi-conscious carcass across the threshold with his long legs and drops of blood trailing betwixt them.

"Lay him over there," the blonde motioned her head towards the large cherry finished desk that she spotted in the center of the darkened lobby. She caught Trish's drift; they needed the area to examine his wounds. Lady followed suit and the pair shuffled Dante's limp body towards the massive desk. With a free hand, Lady cleared the desktop, taking care that his mother's framed picture wasn't caught in the dragnet. The man rarely ever spoke about her, but the brunette could tell that he loved her dearly. He'd actually once growled at someone who knocked it over accidentally. Never had she ever seen someone so protective of a photo.

She was thankful of the streetlight that cast a noticeable glint off of its sterling silver frame. That normally offensive light that had been placed there weeks ago as part of an initiative to brighten the slums, had actually saved the picture of the ever-smiling blonde woman… which in turned saved them of Dante's wrath had any damage become of it. If and whenever he wakes up.

Right. Dante. Shouldn't she be concentrating on getting him onto that desk?

"On three," Lady directed and the blonde nodded, "One, two—"

"Three," the women said in unison as they heaved Dante onto the desk.

They took the slightest of moments to catch their breaths. Lady rubbed and wound her aching her shoulder. Trish didn't take the time to lick her wounds and sore muscles. She instead went to the kitchen to retrieve a first aid kit.

Lady went around turning on the lights and gathering clean towels as Trish returned with the white, dented aluminum kit and a cheap bottle of tequila.

Trish went to work at stripping him of his tattered coat, which were only answered by low moans at the jarring of his body.

"Shh," she quietly lulled him as she carefully undid the silver buckles on his vest and slowly slid him out of it. She took great care not to cause him any more pain than he was already in.

Lady only absently looked on as she recounted the incident.

---

She hadn't spent the entire time with him. Lady had only seen him after he had sent her to takedown countless lesser demons. When she found herself at the area where Dante had decided that he'd take on the snake-like plant demon alone, she was astonished at the shear amount blood at the scene. The first thing that she noted, other than the blood, was the large headless demon with the lower half of its body coiled , albeit rather lazily, almost like a rattler ready to strike.

It was a green scaly thing, pointed with mauve and vibrant yellow markings. She made note that its torso was littered with more holes than a piece of Swiss cheese.

It reminded her of how Dante and Trish had described that Echidna from Fortuna. How could she ever forget that story? That white-haired fool loved to regale anyone who would listen with tales of how he received his newest set of gauntlets and greaves, Gilgamesh.

Wait. Hadn't he killed that she-beast before?

Perhaps this wasn't her, but rather a sister or cousin even. They had gotten the call from Morrison that there was a demon not far from the shop. Lady corroborated the information from another source and negotiated her price from Dante, entirely convincing him that she was coming along.

She got the idea that they—Dante and Trish—had known something was there. She heard them whispering about feeling something big, something with an aura that seemed familiar, but different all at the same time.

At any rate, she strolled past the demon and came face to face with its massive head. Severed and probably awaiting to become a part of Dante's collection. Rebellion sticking out of the ground near it was proof enough. All this blood plus Rebellion outside of his possession meant that Dante had been a reckless boy.

Lady gave the clean cut another once over, admiring its precision despite that it was made from that glorified meat cleaver… Until she heard Trish growl out in frustration, "Damn it!"

Lady circled around the other side of the corpse and balked at the sight that awaited her. There was Dante pinned to a concrete wall and Trish desperately using all her might (including using her leg as leverage) to get him down. As Lady got closer to scene, her eyes trailed from the puddle of blood forming under his dangling feet to the massive, thorny spike that nearly bisected his bloodied midsection.

Her mismatched eyes slid upwards to his face which seemed pale beyond belief—whiter than any linen or shade of paint she had ever seen. His eyes were closed and his expressionless lips were a straight line stained crimson with the hot fluid pouring from its corners. To her, he seemed painted up to be a surreally macabre clown… and it twisted her stomach to no end, seeing him like that.

How long had he been up there?

It couldn't have been too long. Lady had noticed that Dante still loosely gripped the still smoking Ivory in his right hand.

Trish grunted loudly and managed to jerk the spike out with a sickening squelch. Dante dropped like a sack of potatoes from a high shelf. Lady moved closer. Trish sensed the approach and barked, "Stay back!"

Lady paused in her steps as Trish discarded the two foot long spike.

"They're poisonous," Trish explained as she extracted a smaller one from his chest, "Hacketti's barbs are full of venom that is fatal to humans." Lady's eyes regarded the smaller spikes which seemed to cover parts of Dante's body like a porcupine.

Dante, with his eyes still closed, rasped out a small laugh before saying, "Wh-who would have thought she had more bite than Echidna?" He laughed again and let out a wet cough, followed by a wince.

How could he laugh and joke despite obviously being in pain?

"ARGH! SHIT!" Dante threw his eyes open and breathed in anguish as Trish removed one from his knee.

How is he still conscious?

She drew another out before continuing, "They burrow under the host's skin, poisoning them from the inside out. I told the idiot not to rush in. I told him that he'd only get hurt or get himself killed. I guess it went in one ear and out the other." Trish muttered the latter.

"I killed it, didn't I," Dante let out a pained hiss through scarlet painted teeth.

"No… He had to go and be all macho and toss his sword like a fucking boomerang, leaving himself open to an attack." Trish ranted as she yanked one from his thigh.

"Damn, woman! Couldn't you be m-more… more gent—" The half-devil passed out midsentence.

"Dante," Lady questioned as she stepped closer.

Dante has got more lives than a cat; he'll be fine… Right?

"Stay with me," Trish ground out through clinched teeth as she patted his cheeks. She felt for a pulse and then turned her attention to Lady, "Fuck! He's fading fast! We have to move him, now!"

The gravity of the situation hit Lady like a ton of bricks when she noticed the tears Trish fought to hold back. "But the barbs… If they go any deeper—"

"I know," Trish replied grimly, "Believe me, he'll be a lot worse off if we don't him back to the shop."

"I'm callin' Alice," Lady pulled a cell phone from her bra.

---

"Lady? Lady," the soft female voice shook Lady away from her reverie and brought her back to the present.

She looked up to see that the voice belonged to a petite Asian woman, no taller than five feet tall, carrying large tan satchel slung over her shoulder.

"Alice," Lady uttered with her voice choked up with a plethora of emotions. Lady stood from the old couch that sat somewhere between the front door and desk where Dante lay.

"The door was open so I let myself in," the woman said drawing closer to the brunette hunter.

Lady felt tears well up in her eyes. She promptly turned away and dug through the desk drawers in search for a flashlight, determined not to be seen crying. Without a word, Trish opened the kit, revealing that it was more or less outfitted for field surgeries.

"I'm just going to go and wash up," Alice whispered, leaving Lady her dignity.

"Start a saline drip and an O neg transfusion. Supplies are in the bag… Be careful, they are limited." Alice spoke to no one in particular, but the blonde demoness nodded in recognition of the order as the petite woman handed over the satchel.

Trish connected the hypodermic needle to a short catheter and slid it into a vein in Dante's left forearm. As the blonde concentrated on the task, Lady set up the IV fluids and donated blood bag.

Dante was eerily quiet, save for his slow ragged breaths. What scared the two female hunters most of all about the situation was the deafening silence. No matter how bruised and battered Dante got in battle, he always joked around, putting everyone at ease. It was his own annoying way to let them know that he was alright.

Now, there was stillness and only the maddening stillness. The tools from Trish's kit clinked softly as she laid them out. Lady stood, holding his limp hand, willing him to open his eyes. Lady wished that he would get up as if it were only a nap; praying that he would be okay. But she knew better.

"There's a lot of spines to deal with. The sooner we get them out the better," Trish muttered as she sterilized it surgical tools with the tequila, "But we have that nasty wound to contend with."

Alice returned to the lobby decked out in sterile scrubs, a trauma facemask, and latex gloves. "When you're right, you're right. His pulse is pretty thready. Shine the light this way onto his abdomen," the petite woman directed as she felt the slowing pulse from his carotid artery. "This is not good… After we're finished here, I'll need your help to get a look at his back."

The terrible gash stretched across his midsection with dried, caked -on blood holding back the vigorously flowing sanguine like a dam. The blonde disinfected the wound and Alice went to work at stitching up the tear in his belly. It looked painful enough and it appeared to be some small blessing that he was now completely out cold. Alice aptly sutured the skin together and tied off each piece before moving to the next.

Lady had never before thought of how fortunate she was to be a human. If Alice couldn't fix her up, she could always be sent to a hospital for a specialist. But her demonic friends didn't have that luxury.

Sure they had Alice, a doctor working under a suspended license, but even her expertise was limited. Even the ex-doctor knew there would come a time where she would be at a loss for what kind of damage a demon could do to a body. And this was it.

Dante made both Lady and Trish promise that no matter what happened; there would be no hospitals placed into the equation. If it came to any of them needing more intense medical attention, they would call in Alice. Firstly, he hated those places. Forever shall they be associated with pain and death. Also, the last thing he wanted or needed was for a doctor to notice his rapid regenerative abilities and turn him into a science project for the sake of fame, notoriety and a Nobel Prize.

Speaking of which, why wasn't he healing on his own by now?

"He'll survive this right?" Lady picked her head up from her work of extracting the smaller splinters to meet Alice's dark eyes.

The ex-doctor didn't know how to begin to answer the question. There were so many things to consider. She wasn't familiar with the demon that caused these wounds. She had known that Dante was a devil since the day a demon attacked her. He had saved her, never turning up his nose at the painkiller addiction that cost the young doctor her career. She had offered her services in medicine to Dante and his confederates whenever she could as payment.

Fortunately, Trish cut in with an answer.

"It's hard to say. A small amount of the venom will kill a human and I have seen many demons waste away at the hands of Hacketti's poisons. There's no telling how much is in his system. It's pretty fast-acting. I suspect that the first barb considerably slowed his speed and reflexes in battle. The subsequent ones must have slowed, if not completely stopped his healing factor."

Lady quietly took in the dark news, but somehow managed to push on.

Alice sighed as she reached the midway point, completely closing Dante's stomach while Lady and Trish feverishly worked on the remaining barbs.

"We need to roll him on his side," Alice prepared to stitch up his lower back.

More cheap liquor was trickled on different areas, due to the fact that simple antiseptics were increasingly harder to procure under Alice's circumstances.

"We'll have to cut the rest of these quills out. Take care not break them or they will release more poison." Alice made a small incision and dug in with a small set of forceps. The other two followed her example and removed more quills. Before long the white-haired half-devil was cleaned of any excess blood and wrapped in gauze.

Dante's torso alone took nearly one hundred sutures with the entire procedure coming close to the three hour mark, leaving the women utterly exhausted.

"We'll have to keep a close eye on him. Watch for any signs of infection. All we can really do is make him comfortable… the rest is up to him." The ex-doctor explained as she removed her bloodied latex gloves.

Dante seemed to do a little better than when he was first brought to the shop. Some color returned to his cheeks, his pulse a little stronger and steadier, while his breathing seemed to even out. Alice evaluated him once more, before deciding that he was stable enough to be moved to his room. The petite doctor discarded her scrubs, before helping the pair of hunters carry Dante and the IV bags upstairs.

They brought him to his room and redressed him in a set of pajama bottoms while also setting the IV bags for a gravitational flow because the lack of a rapid infuser. Trish and Lady were careful to lay him out on his side in an attempt lessen the aggravation to his through and through wound. Most of the supplies Alice brought to the table were stolen from area hospitals from workers she'd call in for favors. The more complicated equipments were left alone, since they were harder to spirit away under the watchful gaze of hospital administrators.

At any rate, her favors were running out and it left her with fewer provisions than a third world clinic.

She checked his vitals once more as Trish began with, "Someone needs to stay up and watch him."

"I agree," Lady replied, "we should do it in shifts. Alice, you should get some rest in case we need to call on you for help."

The good doctor nodded as she produced the only narcotic she could get a hold of, Morphine. She opened the smallest of the six ampoules and injected it into his left arm.

"He's going to be in a world of pain when he wakes up," Trish commented as she swept his snowy curtain away from his fluttering eyelids.

"I don't doubt it," Alice replied.

"And what about your morphine vials," Lady questioned with impatience and suspicion in her voice. It was no secret that Lady wasn't exactly a fan of Alice. She still seethed at the night Dante brought the stray home.

"You, brought that lying bitch here?" Lady was absolutely furious. She paced the lobby, nearly wearing the hole in the floorboards. "Here," she continued her mini-rant, "Don't you know what she put us through?!"

"And where do you suggest I put her," Dante calmly retorted, "She's lost everything she had. I thought you were committed to devil hunting?"

"I am and what does that have to do with anything. She is gutter trash. Not only is she bad news for business, she's hazardous to our health, namely mine. You weren't there when she rushed into a demon infested building for two—count 'em— two pills!" Lady angrily flashed two fingers. "Who does that? And don't give me that shit about she didn't know any better, because the bitch was attacked there just hours earlier! She almost got me killed!"

"You don't know what she's gone through," Dante began with a quiet anger brewing, "You couldn't even begin to understand what it is to be so hopelessly dependant on something. And you should know, because I seem to remember a girl who couldn't function without the promise of killing Arkham."

Dante knew that he had struck a chord when he saw a stray tear in her eye, but he allowed his tongue to slice into her more, "And you call yourself devoted to ridding the world of evil? Don't forget that a devil hunter's job doesn't just end when he's killed all the baddies that go bump in the night. It ends when he helps the victims involved pick up the pieces of their lives. I know she's a mess, but we all were at some point. I don't know what have happened to me when Grue hadn't decided to take me under his wing when he did. He and Nell treated me like I was their own son. Even when I was hired to do all kinds of horrible merc jobs, they let me just be a kid when I needed to be. They understood that I wasn't just damaged goods, but I was forced to grow older than my actual age. I'm thankful for them. But the girl in the other room has no one and she deserves a second chance… just like you got."

How could he defend some lying addict over her? How could that woman dare to call herself doctor when she withheld precious opiates from a suffering patient to satisfy her own needs? Don't they take some kind of oath? How did it go; do no harm?

Lady was thrown for a loop when Dante had practically exploded in front of her. She had never imagined that he felt so strongly about something this, especially the addict in the next room.

Nevertheless, she allowed her cantankerous attitude to shine through, "You can step down off your damned soapbox, Dante. I'm saying that I don't want you crying to me when she screws you over or sells you out for her next hit of Oxycontin."

With that, the buxom brunette hefted Kalina Ann over shoulder and walked out the door. Damn Dante his bleeding heart. It's sure to get him hurt later.

Alice's voice sliced through Lady's thoughts, "Look, Lady, I know that you don't trust me—"

"Damn right I don't," Lady cut her off.

"I am aware that you know of my past, especially the incident with the patient that cost me my job and license… But I assure you that I would never do that again and especially to Dante of all people. I owe him too much. I can trust that we can be adult about this, for his sake, and help him recover." Alice breathed a small sigh before continuing, "These are all the ampoules I have left and I say to you both that you should handle them like they are your lifeblood. Use it only when he is in intense pain. Otherwise, get some aspirin or Tylenol ready; I want to avoid as many side effects as possible."

"And how would we be able to tell," Trish asked in genuine concerned. Being a full demon, she wasn't well acquainted with the pain Alice described.

"Mild discomfort warrants the aspirin and when he screams for you to kill him, give him the Morphine."

With that, Alice tiredly schlepped to the guest room she called home a few months earlier.

-----

A myriad of sweet scents sang across his nostrils. And then a sound wafted through the air, to his ears, ever so softly caressing him through the darkness. It was so delicate that it was barely audible to his sensitive ears. So far off and distant, it seemed worlds apart from wherever he was.

That was a good question: Just where was he anyways?

He took a chance and opened his eyes.

"Uhn," he grunted as his pupils adjusted to the invasion of sunlight. Dante brought a hand up to at least attempt to block some of the rays. He shifted his hazel-blue orbs about, coming to a realization that he was lying in a grassy field, with wild flowers stretching in all directions, as far as the eye could see.

He closed his eyes once more and inhaled, breathing in the crisp, clean mountain air just beyond the valley. A wave of nostalgia hit him as he uttered the words he thought he'd never say again, "I'm home."

Dante stood, noticing that he was no longer in his battle dress, but in something more casual, a pair of deep blue jeans and a wine colored tee shirt. He curled his bare toes into the grass; allowing the desultory breeze to lick his face. From his stance he felt connected to everything; from the plants growing up from the dirt, to the chirping birds, to the clouds above pregnant with rain.

Again he heard the sound, this time a little stronger. He could place it now. The tune carried in the form of melodic, deliberate hums. He knew this song now; he hadn't heard it since he was a small boy. His mother always sang it to him and Vergil.

"Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme… Without no seams nor needlework," the familiar lyrics drifted across the winds. He suddenly got the image of his mother taking sheets down from the clothesline. She sang this song whenever she did laundry or whenever either of the twins were sick. Eva was a master of lulling them into a peaceful state.

Dante followed the dulcet tones, somehow already knowing where to go. The wind swept across the plain, parting the sea of flowers and grass, pointing a trail for the lone platinum haired man. It crossed into the west leading him to a summer cottage.

His eyes nearly bugged at the familiarity at seeing the place. He vividly remembered seeing his old house burn to the ground the day his mother died. And here it stood, undisturbed as if the incident never happened, glimmering and harkening to a past long forgotten.

As he had imagined, linens flapped on their lines in the side yard with a blonde in a power blue dress diligently taking down her laundry.

"Mom," he hoarsely questioned in disbelief. He gained confidence in his voice, calling, "Mother! Mom!" Dante quickened his pace towards the blonde as she turned to face the voice echoing across the field.

Her golden locks cascaded across her shoulder, catching sight of the platinum haired man running towards her. She squinted her eyes before coming to the realization that he was calling out to her. "Dante," she said unbelieving of the visage coming towards her.

"Mom." He said making a final step towards her with crystalline eyes meeting her deeper blues.

Both stood frozen for a moment, unable to speak to the other, unable to move.

Eva was the first to break the stillness, pulling her son close into an embrace.

"I missed you so much," Dante's voice wrought with emotion as he pushed back the forming tears.

"I missed you too, sweetheart," she held him tighter. He drank in her entire being, taking in her scent. She smelled of the mountain springs, wild flowers, and Ivory soap.

There were only a few times in Dante's life where he found himself at a total loss for words. It was a stark difference to being speechless. Being speechless entailed the inability to speak, Dante merely couldn't think of what to say, how to piece the words. What could he have possibly said to a woman he had not seen in eighteen years?

Seeing her son's internal struggle before speaking up, "My how have you grown." She quietly noted the fact that he dwarfed her by a full foot or two. Her expression shifted to one of sadness and joy at the same time. It was a paradox of being elated at finally seeing her son, but also despairing the sight of him.

"What's the matter?"

"You shouldn't be here, honey," she replied grimly as she stroked his hair. It sounded rather odd hearing the awful truth from her sweet voice.

"I'm not dreaming, then," Dante became at peace with the realization, "I am de—"

Eva planted a firm finger on his lips hushing him, ushering denial, "Don't say such things."

"It makes sense. It would have happened sooner or later… Just a little sooner than I intended," he chewed on his bottom lip.

The look on her face was heartbreaking. Dante watched helplessly as she struggled to contain her grief.

"Hey, um… Mom, I'm sorry. Forget I said anything," he clamored to pull her into a hug.

"I can't," she pulled away and ran into the house.

Dante followed and stopped in his tracks at what he saw. "Dad? Wait… you're here too?!"

"Hello, Dante," the man holding his trembling wife evenly replied.

Dante gazed at his father and took him in. He looked exactly as he did over twenty years ago when he left. He of course kept his snow-white hair slicked back. He still wore those wire framed glasses that really served no purpose and dressed as if he was making a fashion statement straight from the Victorian Era. He really hadn't aged a day.

Eva did her best to hide her puffy reddened eyes as she disappeared into a backroom.

"I wish we would have met under different circumstance. I wish I wouldn't have seen you here of all places and at such a young age. Your mother of course agrees."

"Meh, well… Shit happens." Sparda gave a small chuckle Dante's ability to make light of any situation.

"What is this place," Dante asked, hoping for a definitive answer.

"Son," Sparda said grasping Dante's shoulder and motioning for him to have a seat on the sofa to his left, "There's no easy way to say this. The place where we are… Has many names. Some call it Shangri-La, others call it Heaven or a place for enlightenment. Son, this is the afterlife. Your soul led you to a place where you most yearned to be."

"So, basically… I'm—"

"Afraid so."

Chill out... more stuff will come in due time.

Sucks being snowed in.... ARGH! Please review to help alleviate my discomfort.