This is a Devil May Cry fanfiction.
Background: Ch. 48, 2, 4, 5, 6 established DxN relationship
He came from nowhere like a savior angel, which given the situation was a little ironic. Nero was trapped in the giant stone hand of a 'Savior.' Credo struck twice with his blade knocking Sanctus out of his line of sight. Once that was accomplished he turned back to the trapped male.
His heart stopped at those words, the last time he'd seen him, his adopted brother had been trying to kill him. He thought he might have been lost but no…he still cared about Kyrie and about him too. He'd just trusted the Order long enough to turn him against Nero, for however briefly.
He wanted to run-to escape but before he had any chance to even loosen the grip around him his brother let out a sound of pain, impaled by Yamato's thin, powerful blade.
"Credo!" the word came out an agonized scream. He would be okay-he had to be okay! Both he and Dante could stand being impaled by a sword so Credo would too, right?
His resolve was shaken however when Credo came back to his human form, crimson red staining the pristine white of his uniform. It made Nero feel sick.
He could see his adopted brother grabbing onto Sanctus' arms, holding them in place so that the sword did not move forward nor away. It drew a gasp from his lips. Credo was still talking, though it was a thin, papery whisper that did nothing to improve the half-demon's confidence in his survival. He only caught snippets of the conversation-enough to know that it was because of Kyrie that Credo had come here-though he knew that before.
'And because of me that he's so weak. He's going to die because of me.' He tried to knock the traitorous thoughts away, but he couldn't shake them. Nero was struggling, sounds of effort leaving his throat.
Yamato was driven in further making the Captain double over, Sanctus saying a few more words that Nero didn't catch before the sword was pulled from Credo's body and he was falling. He looked like a rag doll and Nero let out a sound of pain as he reached for him. He wanted to do something. At the very least he didn't want to watch his broken body smash further on the stone below.
This was his fault. He had the demon blood, so what if he was a lowly knight, maybe there was something he should have been able to do to stop this! As much as he wanted to think otherwise however it was Credo's determination and loyalty, two terribly noble qualities perverted by Santus' preaching, that had brought them to this point. If only he had seen through it sooner, seen the error…perhaps that was his own failure that he never discussed such things with his distant older brother. There had been a time when they were so close…all three of them thicker than thieves. What the hell happened to them?
His thoughts were brought up short when a flash of red caught his falling brother. A tiny bit of relief washed over him as he realized Dante wasn't going to let his brother die that way. Though anger flicked through him when the other half-demon didn't do anything else to help him.
After Nero was absorbed into the Savior that's where Credo died, on the cold, stone ground in front of the monster he'd helped create only to lose faith in it at the last moment. He was alone, technically speaking. He was with Dante and Trish, people who didn't know him, didn't care about his life or his past.
He was alone because no one he loved was around when he died. At least their parents died together. Nero considered that one of his greatest failures, that he hadn't been there in Credo's last moments to hear the final, redeeming words he had.
Thoughts like that haunted Nero in the darkness of the night when sleep refused to come to him. Dante was asleep next to him. Usually he was the one suffering from nightmares and regrets, from past failures that ate at him even now. He didn't talk to Dante about Credo often. It was a touchy subject for him. Yes, his brother turned himself into a demon, but in the end he'd redeemed himself, he hadn't been taken over completely-he could have changed. Sometimes…he resented that Dante hadn't done anything to help prolong his life. That he hadn't put pressure on the wound, hadn't bandaged him up-anything. No. He set his brother on the ground and snapped some snaky banter at him.
There were bigger things at stake. The rational part of his brain insisted on this point, and it was true. However Dante hadn't been doing anything except for goading him and Sanctus to action. He didn't interfere at all when things turned sour either. So why not help Credo? Why not?
He sighed and rolled over, away from his partner, running his hand through his hair. A moment later he felt Dante's warm body press up against his back. It calmed him slightly, but only for a moment.
"What'sa matter?" the older hunter slurred.
Nero was quiet, not sure if he wanted to say anything.
"You keep rolling around and sighing. Can't sleep. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm sorry I'm keeping you up, I'll just-" He stopped trying to free himself when Dante squeezed him tighter.
"Don't lie to me, kid."
The room was dead silent for a few heartbeats.
"Why didn't you try to save him?" he asked quietly, keeping his blue eyes focused ahead into the darkness.
Dante's calloused hand ran over his side in a soothing motion. "Save who, babe?"
"Credo." Voicing his name alone made a lump form in his throat and he clenched his jaw to keep it from showing.
The older demon paused a long time before answering. "Because he chose to give up his humanity."
"But it wasn't gone! He still cared for me and Kyrie too."
"It just means he hadn't lost it all yet."
Nero felt tears stinging his eyes. "How do you know that? What if he could have changed?"
"Oh Nero," he sighed, holding him tightly. "I'm sorry," he murmured, trying to soothe him. There was nothing he could say that was going to make it any easier on the kid.
Tears rolled down Nero's face even as he tried to stop them, or at the very least keep them quiet. He hated crying and he really hated crying in front of Dante. Unfortunately the older male knew his pain just as well as he knew his own it was just that the older hunter was much better at covering it up. He sat up a bit and gently kissed his wet cheek before framing his face with his hands and swiping the tears away.
Nero tried to turn away. "Stop, it's embarrassing," he muttered.
"What? Trying to comfort you?"
"No, me crying. It's embarrassing." he repeated.
"Shedding tears for one you love is natural. Lady told me once that even a devil may cry when he loses a loved one," he soothed. He hated to think about that day, but he'd named the shop after it. It was such a painful, but defining part of his life. And Nero didn't know anything about it, didn't know anything about Temen-ni-gru, didn't know about Vergil. It probably wasn't any of his concern anyway, after all, it was all in the past. So he liked to think anyway.
Shouldn't he know though? What if Vergil wasn't dead? What if he showed up again? Questions like that bothered him incessantly. Nero probably should know. Should at least know he had a brother. Words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could take a moment to stop them. It was impulsive and he was tired, but he'd started now.
"I ever tell you how the shop got its name?"
"…No," he whispered.
It was a little too late to turn back now. Nero had shown himself vulnerable more than once before, and been there to help the older hunter even when he didn't know what it was bothering him. He deserved to know a little bit. "…Settle in, it's a long story," he whispered as the younger male hesitantly rolled back towards him, wiping at his own eyes as he listened to Dante speak in soft, careful tones about one of his own greatest failures.