“My dearest Mother.” He coos at you as he places his hand on your cheek, ignoring the way you flinched away from him.

Dio knew you weren’t his Mother— knew that she had died over two hundred years ago —but you looked so much like her that he couldn’t help himself. For all that he was, a demon in every aspect of the word, he couldn’t shake his love for his Mother.

His love for you.

“How I’ve missed you.” This time, he had the strength to protect you. Instead of watching you die, he would do everything in his power to keep you alive.

Even if you didn’t know who he was. Even if you begged and pleaded for him to let you go. Even if, deep down, he knew you weren’t her.