He comes in the night 2

And the story continues.

But first it begins.

A.N. 1: Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry or any of its characters. The others are mine. I don't own 'the woman' OC either. Vergil does. He said so.

A.N. 2: If you have read 'He comes in the night 1' things will look familiar in later chapters. This is Vergil's side of the story.

Part 1

Might controls everything. That had been his motto. It had pushed him onward to find Sparda's elusive power. Temen-ni-gru should have given him what he sought. Instead, because of his foolish arrogance, he had become Mundus's champion and Solaris's favourite.

It had not been a willing transformation. Mundus had defeated him and Solaris had been assigned the task to convert him to her brother's cause, though in reality she had served her own cause more. She had wanted the son of Sparda for herself.

Solaris was beautiful, seductive; had more sex appeal in her little finger than could be found in a busload of topless models. She had used its full potency to seduce Vergil, but he had hated every moment she had spent with him. Most of all because she had managed to arouse him despite his best efforts at ignoring his devil's want.

He had always been able to control what he considered to be base instincts that would keep him from reaching his goal, but Solaris, supreme seductress, had broken down all his resistance, except one. She had treated him like a pet, a toy, but he had never become her slave. He had never given in to her ultimate demand, no matter how much his devil had been tempted by the enchantress. He would have chosen death before he'd said the words she wanted to hear, that he was hers.

Eventually his memories had been erased and he had become Nelo Angelo, faithful general to Mundus. Solaris had been allowed to 'play' with him when he was off duty. He had been more than willing to ease his devilish needs with her, and yet there had been a core within him – an ember of his true self – that had remained free from Mundus and Solaris.

Their hold on him had shattered when he had been sent out to fight a dangerous foe. Twice he had had to retreat to recover from … something. Some hidden force this enemy had possessed. There had been no retreat the third time. Vergil had felt all his power burst out of him after his defeat at the hands of his bother. Not that he had recognised Dante. Not until the moment when Nelo Angelo's armour had exploded under the pressure of his escaping strength and he had been flung back into the Demon Realm, powerless, defenceless, human.

Solaris had rescued him from her brother's wrath. For Mundus failure equalled death, but his sister hadn't been ready to give up on what she wanted more than anything in the world: a son of Sparda as her slave.

"He's got no powers left, Mundus. I can finally make him acknowledge me as his owner, his mistress. And if he fails to please me as my personal slave you can kill him in any way you see fit. I might even help," she had suggested.

"He failed me," Mundus had said. "I don't want failures in my army."

"Oh, come on, Mundy. He won't be in your army. He'll be all mine. Please, for your little sister," she had pleaded.

Of course Solaris had gotten her way. She always did.

ooOOoo

He had been defeated by his brother, rejected by Mundus, and claimed by Solaris. That's how he, Vergil firstborn son of Sparda, had ended up a pathetic human, chained hands, feet and neck to the ostentatious golden throne that was Solaris's favourite seat.

For Vergil it would have been preferable if Mundus had killed him. Anything, including death, was better than lying like a dog at Solaris's feet.

To his utter disgust she patted him on the head as she said, "Let's see how Mundy deals with a half-breed, shall we?"

The she-devil conjured up a hexagon that floated in mid-air, its black shining surface turned towards herself and Vergil. Pictures started to appear in it, sound followed soon. Solaris was looking forward to seeing how Mundus dealt with the enemy who had defeated so many of his best.

The fight had already started. Against the night sky of the Demon Realm Mundus looked awe-inspiring, and Dante, even in his Devil Trigger, looked so very small. And yet Mundus didn't have it easy.

Vergil too watched and saw how his little brother who had never been interested in acquiring more power, who had not even been too bothered that he was a son of Sparda, now seemed to have all the might of Sparda at his fingertips.

"How?" Vergil wondered.

Had Dante taken his warning to heart? Had he gone out to seek Sparda's powers? But they had been lost when Arkham, the blob, had been defeated. All that Sparda had sealed in Temen-ni-gru had been dispersed in the ether, lost to everyone for all eternity. Where did Dante find Sparda's power? All of Sparda's power, and perhaps even more, by the look of things.

No, Vergil knew too well that Dante wouldn't have sought this power. Dante wanted to protect, to do as Sparda had done before him. Help the humans, be their champion. There was only one place where his little brother could have found that sort of power: within himself, in the soul that they shared with Sparda.

Vergil only just kept from groaning as he realised how he had failed, how he had squandered what Dante now possessed. Then he saw Mundus's apparent defeat when he crashed, his wings shot to pieces by Dante. To Vergil's surprise Solaris kept her eyes on her brother as Dante escaped back to Mallet Island and the Human World. Then he too saw the portal.

Mundus would finally get out of the Demon Realm where he had been kept for so long after his defeat to Sparda. Could Dante stop him and send him back? It gnawed at Vergil that his despised, human-loving brother might succeed where he had failed. On the other hand, his hatred for Mundus far outweighed his contempt for his brother's choices.

Solaris laughed as she saw Dante, more puny looking than ever, facing her brother in the fortress on Mallet Island.

"Not long now, my dear pet, and you will be the only son of Sparda," she smirked. "And look, Mundy has got a helper."

Vergil too saw the she-devil. Trish, the one made in Eva's image. Dante would be powerless against her. Vergil was sure his brother could never harm a woman who looked that much like their mother. His human feelings would be his undoing, just like Vergil had known all along.

The smile died on Solaris's lips and Vergil's eyes opened wide in surprise when Trish gave her powers to Dante. How in the world had that cold, heartless she-devil been turned into this? With Trish's lightning assisting his fire power, a Devil Triggered Dante blasted Mundus back into the Demon Realm. Rubble from the Human World and the Demon Realm fell on top of the Demon Emperor. The picture in the hexagon disappeared.

"He lost. The fucking idiot lost," Solaris roared. "That's what you get when you kill off your champions for one mistake. You have to fight your own battles. And that fucking bitch, helping a son of Sparda. Good thing the rubble fell on top of them too. Yes my pet, you are the now the only son of Sparda. The Sparda bloodline has failed utterly. In time Mundy will come back, and then we'll set things right once and for all. The Human World will be ours."

ooOOoo

Vergil had no idea how much time had passed since Mallet Island. How many days, weeks, months had he been Solaris's pet project? Her tenacity had surprised him. Patience wasn't exactly a devil's virtue. Of course stubbornness and sheer bloody-mindedness were, and she had those in spades. She was as set on enslaving Sparda's firstborn as he had been on finding Sparda's power. Futile goals, both of them.

Chained in his cold cell, his injuries slowly – too slowly – healing, Vergil smiled. He had withstood her again. How often already? He had lost count. Solaris had been kind and sweet at first, trying to seduce him into acknowledging her ownership of him. He had only felt contempt for the pretence. As if Mundus' sister could ever have feelings except for herself. When gentle seduction had failed, the she-devil had tried violence. She had already been displeased because her brother had been defeated by Dante – the half-breed who regrettably had NOT died at Mallet Island. That Vergil – a mere mortal since he had lost his powers – dared to resist her had only fuelled her anger.

The torture had been hard. Every blow hurt more, every injury took longer to heal. He had cried out in pain, every nerve in his body screaming to end it, and still he hadn't given in. The rigorous training of his youth still held. He could ignore his needs and push his body beyond endurance, holding out against anything Solaris could do to him. Vergil knew that one day she would lose patience and kill him. Probably on the day that his human body was so wasted away that it no longer interested her. Until then there was that ember inside of him, his honour – unsullied, his strength – built up over the years. And those he could never lose.

Then, when least looked for, Vergil found a new power. Not from a hidden source, a sword or an amulet, but from that ember within. His body still healed slowly, but he felt less weak, even when injured. He pretended to be the helpless human – which he still was in so many ways – while his strength grew. Biding his time, Vergil waited until his body was nearly healed. He knew he had to act before the torture would start again.

Security had become lax over time. The demons and devils that did Solaris's bidding saw him as totally harmless. Keeping him locked up, bringing him food had become the job for weaklings. After all, what could this remnant of humanity do to a devil? Vergil showed them.

He was in luck. The weakling that brought his food had barely any demonic power. Overpowering it, strangling it with the chains that bound him was easy work for Vergil. The keys dangling from the demon's belt opened his chains. Gaining time was important now. Chain up the demon's body; make it look as if somebody lay collapsed in the filthy straw of the cell. It was quickly done and would mean nobody would suspect his escape until the following day.

With stealth he managed to get out of Mundus and Solaris's stronghold. His only option had been to use the chute that siphoned off all the waste from the citadel into the water that surrounded it. He had to steel himself against the stench, and even more against the idea of what was coating the sides of the tube that was his only escape route, but he jumped in. The stink, the darkness, the stickiness of everything that touched him, the seemingly endless drop, it was enough to drive a man out of his mind. But he was no man. He was Vergil, Son of Sparda, a half-devil, determined to succeed.

With a damp squelching noise he was ejected from the conduit into water so thick with the filth that it hardly made a difference. There was no unpolluted water nearby, nor any other way to clean up. Vergil didn't like it, but he realised there were advantages. The stench would hide his own scent making it more difficult for Solaris's pursuing henchmen to track him down. The mud would protect him from the heat of the hellish desert he had to cross in order to reach the right portal.

He'd had time to think about which way to take out of the Demon Realm. None of the nearby exits would do. They would be swarming with demons and devils as soon as his escape was discovered. Vergil realised too well that he was in no fit state to outrun the horde. And fighting them was completely out of the question. For the same reason none of the main gates that still existed between the Demon Realm and the Human World would do.

He had thought of the portal he'd used when he had re-entered the Human World as a teen. Of course every denizen of the Demon Realm knew about it. He had killed so many fiends there that the place had become legendary; the Dark Slayer's Escape.

Vergil believed there was one portal that would not be considered. The one he had rejected back then because it opened up in the middle of a wasteland in the Human World. Not a town nearby, not even a cluster of houses, nothing but bare emptiness. It was also the furthest away from the Citadel. With some luck and determination he could reach it in time before anyone else remembered it.

Hiding during the worst of the heat, drinking whatever liquid he could find. Don't think of the taste, don't wonder what it is you are drinking. Just drink it. Eating what he could catch, insects mostly. Perhaps he should be thankful they were so big.

The whole experience reminded him painfully of his youth, when as a young boy he had been dragged to this place. He'd been stronger then. His devil had been newly awakened. Now he was not even a young devil. Merely a weak and injured human. Pathetic.

Stop thinking like that. You are a son of Sparda. You are blood of his blood; your soul is part of his soul. There lies your strength. Dante had known, even when he was merely an obnoxious teen who didn't want to know about power. Use Sparda's legacy within you.

Eventually Vergil reached his chosen exit. It was barely manned with just two demons guarding it. There was no time to lose. It could not be long before somebody would remember this outpost. Perhaps they already had and Solaris's forces were on their way. Vergil studied the demons. It didn't take him long to realise these weren't real demons. Not yet anyway. They were merely humans who had hoped to gain power by joining Mundus. Very few ever did. Most ended up as mere soldiers in Mundus's army; first in the attack, first to die, expendable.

These two weren't totally human anymore, but neither were they full demons. Vergil reckoned that one wasn't even halfway there; the other slightly more advanced in his demonization process. They were vulnerable. Hunger, thirst, heat, tiredness; these could all still influence their abilities. Hidden in the coolness of the shadows, Vergil decided to wait until the day was at its hottest, and the guards would become drowsy.

When the hellish sun was at its highest even Vergil felt the effect of its heat. He realised he had to act immediately. Without a noise he approached the weaker of the two guards. The mud that was still caked to his body hid his scent, allowing him to disarm the would-be demon. Unfortunately snatching the weapon away woke up the guard, and Vergil killing stroke was just too late to stop his victim from crying out.

Vergil swore under his breath when the second guard stirred, got up, and charged at him with drawn sword. Just in time he pulled the weapon out of his dead victim and parried the stroke of his opponent. The fight that followed would not get any prices for elegance. They hacked and slashed at each other just trying to get the killing blow in as fast as possible. Vergil realised he didn't have the power or stamina for his usual stylish swordplay. He didn't even have the right weapon. Instead of his Yamato he had some crude sabre of inferior quality. The enemy was also more skilled than Vergil had anticipated.

Under the blazing white-hot sun the fight continued. Vergil managed to nick the near-demon a few times, but his own injuries were worse. Whatever strength he had had was draining away fast. Then disaster struck. Vergil parried a particularly vicious slash. The sabre snapped under the stress of the blow.

"You're as good as dead, Son of Sparda!" the guard cried out. "When Solaris's army arrives I will finally get the recognition I deserve. I'll be promoted, made captain if not general, instead of being sent to an out of the way place like this. Thank you for coming this way and making it all possible."

While his foe was talking Vergil found the core of strength within him; the light that had kept him from succumbing to Solaris. The spark of … what? Sparda's power? Sparda's soul? It didn't matter.

While the guard was still laughing and mocking him, Vergil lunged forward with a sudden surge of his old speed and pushed the broken sword through his opponent's throat. Laughing became gurgling as blood filled the man's lungs.

"Foolishness," Vergil said as he watched his foe die. "If you need to prattle, do it after you have finished the job, not before."

He wrenched the sword out of the dead man's hand. Just as he had started to remove his victim's clothes to cover his own nakedness, Vergil heard a noise. Solaris's men were approaching fast. He had to get out of the Demon Realm immediately. He picked up the guard's sword and cloak and stepped through the portal into the wasteland beyond.

Vergil realised he had to destroy the portal. If he didn't the horde of demons would come through. One by one. Yes. But it was by no means certain he would be able to kill each demon with one stroke, and if he didn't he would be captured. There was only one thing to do: use the sword to close the portal. He would lose his weapon. That could not be helped. But with the portal closed he probably wouldn't need one.

With a last effort Vergil pushed the weapon into the vulnerable point of the portal. The explosion that followed flung him away together with the debris of the site. By the time he came round again it was already evening. There were no demons about, he had not been captured. He was free, but what faced him now was a long trek through the wasteland.

Would he be able to do it in his human form, weak and injured? He would! He was a son of Sparda! Sparda's blood flowed through his veins, and Sparda's soul would sustain him!

He was in luck. The wasteland wasn't as extensive as he had thought. By mid-morning the following day he was out of the stony waste. There was still nothing to eat, but at least there was some water. Vergil quenched his thirst first, then cleaned himself up a bit, as best he could. The water was sparse and his wounds still far from healed. He had to find shelter first before he could tend to his needs.

Two days later he saw a sign of human habitation. A house, lonely, no neighbours. Nobody about; no sign of occupation. Empty? Abandoned perhaps? It didn't matter. It was just what he needed. Shelter, probably food, time to let his wounds heal and regain his strength.

Vergil stumbled along the path towards the front door. He tried to clamber up the steps to the porch and failed. He collapsed, bleeding from reopened wounds, too exhausted, too drained to move. Darkness overtook him and he welcomed the release it gave him.

ooOOoo